Dedication
by Coffee Filters
Summary: After initial success with his first books, Ichigo Kurosaki gets stuck with writer's block, and returns home for his high school reunion. Finding himself back in Karakura, he gets reacquainted with old friends and one face in particular. IchiRuki, AU
1. Run in

_After initial success with his first books, Ichigo Kurosaki gets stuck with writer's block, and returns home for his high school reunion. Finding himself back in Karakura, he gets reacquainted with old friends and one face in particular. IchiRuki, AU_

_**A/N:**__ So I've been going through this too since the break and with everyone coming back home from college, so naturally I had to write it up. Of course, I really have to give props to reviewer __Phillip William-Wammy, who requested an AU fic from me._

_**Disclaimer:**__ The characters and fun Bleach terminology all belong to Kubo Tite and are used here for entertainment purposes only._

_**Rating:**__ T for language_

**Dedication**

The last time Ichigo Kurosaki had been in this specific grocery store in this specific town had been six years ago. But as he shuffled his feet along the aisles, shopping basket in hand, he wasn't whimsically reminiscing about the past but wishing that he hadn't forgotten to buy those eggs for Yuzu.

What had started out as a quick-trip to the grocer's to get the forgotten item turned into a full on shopping trip as constant calls from the Kurosaki household flooded his mobile.

"Ichigo?" Yuzu asked for what felt like the umpteenth time in the last thirty minutes.

"Yes Yuzu?" He sighed, gripping the basket tightly, maneuvering around a woman and her children in the cereal aisle.

"Dad forgot to tell you that he also needs some lettuce," she replied.

Ichigo looked at his phone angrily. "What the hell for?" An elderly woman glared at him as she passed by with her cart. Ichigo ignored her.

There was a pause, and he heard Yuzu repeat the question to someone on her end of the line. "No idea," she replied.

"I've been all over the store already!" he looked at the contents of his basket. "Why does the old man need ice cream, apple sauce, peanuts, and now lettuce? What can you do with all of that?"

"I don't know Ichigo." She sounded calm, but Ichigo could tell that she was cooking while talking to him. "Listen. Can you just get it? I'm afraid I'll drop the phone into the pot."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." He hung up, feeling justifiably annoyed, but grabbed the damn produce anyway. He was making his way back to the cash registers when he realized that he forgot what brought him there in the first place: eggs.

Quickly making his way to the back of the store, he waited as a couple occupied the entire egg shelf, opening each carton and inspecting the contents with annoyingly careful precession.

He looked at his watch then at his mobile. Had he really been standing here for ten minutes? Were choosing eggs always this time consuming? Had he been doing it wrong all these years? He looked around the store, seeing if time stopped for everyone too.

He was turning to look the other way when he heard a familiar, high-pitched, excited voice shout, "Ichigo! Ichigo is that really you?"

He really did regret not remembering to buy those eggs this morning. Because when he turned around to see the source of that voice, he was greeted with a rib-breaking squeeze and boobs pressed into his chest the size of melons.

"Oh I knew it was you!" Orihime Inoue squealed as she took a step back, a wide smile gracing her features. To Ichigo, she looked the same since high school. Long light brown hair, big chest, and genuine smile on her features. "Then of course who wouldn't! I've been keeping up with your books!"

"Um," Ichigo found himself replying, embarrassed.

"I didn't know you were back in town?" she asked.

"Yeah…"

He wasn't _not_ happy to see Orihime. In all honesty, she was probably one of the only people he'd gladly run into at the grocery store. It was just at the same time, he didn't want to run into her because he knew that the next words that would leave her mouth would be—

"So are you going to the reunion tonight?"

Ichigo forced a smile. "Oh. No. I don't think—"

"I made sure everyone got an invite," she interrupted, and Ichigo knew that she was having one of those moments where she was thinking aloud. "That was my job. I had to look up everyone's addresses, and Keigo trusted me to get this right." She looked up to meet his eyes. "You did get one right?"

Ichigo guiltily thought about the glittering invitation, decorated in Karakura High School colors, which sat at the bottom of his trashcan back at the Kurosaki household. He debated whether he could just lie, but one look at Orihime's expectant face told him that that wasn't an option. He nodded.

She sighed in relief. "Oh good. I was worried for a second and thought about all the people who might not have received one like Chad or—"

"Uryuu?" Ichigo supplied.

Orihime laughed. "Ichigo you're funny. I'd make sure that my own husband would come!"

Ichigo's eyes widened with shock.

"Oh I forgot that you weren't here," Orihime admitted. "Well, we got married last year!"

"Congratulations." Ichigo tried to sound more cheery and less shocked.

Orihime's face brightened. "I'm sorry. You were moving somewhere and it was all very sudden when we decided to do it so we just had very close friends—not that you aren't a close friend or anything—come to think of it," she stopped for breath. "Rukia didn't come either."

The name triggered something in Ichigo, and he became suddenly more aware of what she was saying. "Rukia?" Did he really just say her name?

"She was abroad or something at the time," Orihime explained airily. "She's been somewhere in England for the past two months. Oh I hope she got her invitation!"

Ichigo nodded, configuring the best way to get more information about her without being overtly obvious. "Has she—" he began, but was stopped short by the buzzing of his mobile in his back pocket. Throwing an apologetic look to Orihime, he flipped it open. "What now?"

"Ichigo? Where are you? Did you get the eggs?" Yuzu's voice grounded him again.

"Y-yeah Yuzu. Sorry it's just taking me a while," he looked at Orihime who smiled back cheerfully. "I ran into someone."

"Dad said that might be what's taking you," Yuzu answered.

"Uh-huh," Ichigo interrupted. "Did Dad, by the way, find an invitation in my room?"

"Yeah! He found it just when you left actually."

"I thought so." Ichigo nodded, understanding that he's been ambushed. "I'll be home soon Yuzu." And hung up.

"Is everything okay, Ichigo?"

"Yeah," he said looking at his mobile before pushing it into his back pocket. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh. Well I was just at your father's clinic. I had to drop some files off from Uryuu, and when I told your father that I was headed here, he told me that you were here too! They were all okay when I left," she said a little worriedly.

"Right." Ichigo's hypothesis came full circle. "Of course."

Orihime watched him, confused. "Does that mean you'll be coming tonight?"

Tonight? He didn't have anything to do, and there was the possibility, albeit slim, that a certain person might be there tonight. The odds were minimal, but they were more than he's had over the past few years. It's not like he spoke to her since…had it really been that long?

Looking up, he felt himself smile, genuinely. He could take those odds. "What time are we meeting up again?"

**xxxxx**

He was starting to regret this whole him coming back home thing, mostly because it wasn't his idea in the first place.

Surprisingly enough, it wasn't Isshin who guilted him into coming back, which he usually did. When he did, Ichigo never really gave in and made excuses instead, choosing to spend time at home, which was presently located in New York. No. This time it was all Yoruichi's fault.

_It had been about five months since he sent her the last proposal to the book he was planning, when his editor called, "What the hell do you do all day anyway?"_

_Ichigo groaned, dragging his hand over his face. "Yoruichi I'm sor—"_

"_Yeah, yeah," she interrupted. "I've heard enough apologies to actually fill an entire paperback by you! Now tell me what the hell is going on?"_

"_I don't know. You tell me! Because last I checked, I was on the receiving end of this phone call."_

"_Oh ha-ha Mr. Big Shot," she replied tersely. "A couple more of those and you just might be able to write yourself a persuasive letter to a new editor who'll take this shit!"_

"_Come on Yoruichi. I'm just having writer's block," he admitted, pacing his apartment. "It's been difficult since the last one came out, and I'm just—It's just that—" he stopped, angry at himself for not even being able to find the right words to finish the sentence let alone a new book._

_He heard her shake her head over the line. "Ichigo, it's been a year since your last book, and the publishers loved your last proposal. I'm just surprised that you never followed up with it."_

"_I don't see why they're complaining. Last I checked, I brought them an ass load of sales with my last two books," Ichigo replied defensively._

"_That's your problem: You're getting cocky."_

"_Whatever," he said dejectedly. "I'll do a follow-up by the end of the week to get the publishers off your back for a while." He sat down at his desk, leaning it all the way back, and tapping the keyboard loudly as proof._

"_Look," he heard her sigh. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but I've booked you a trip."_

_He stopped hitting the random keys. "Wait." He sat up. "What?" He almost dropped his phone in shock._

"_Your dad called me." Ichigo made a strangled noise as Yoruichi continued, "and he actually made the plans—" That was the problem when your father was friends with your editor._

"_No way! No way am I going!"_

"—_and I agree with him." She finished._

_Ichigo sat back, looking up towards the ceiling as he held the phone close to his ear._

"_You're a great writer Ichigo. You've just lost that," she paused as if trying to find the proper word. "spark," she finished, "that I found when I first read your manuscript."_

_The only sound on the other end of the line was the creak of his chair as he rocked the back of the seat forward._

"_And I know and you know that those last two books weren't your best," Yoruichi continued simply, but Ichigo wasn't offended. He was used to hearing harsh realities from her._

_There was a small pause as this sunk in. "Luckily," Yoruichi went on cheerily. "Your father came to me with the answer."_

"_And that is?" He was starting to feel resigned to this fate._

**xxxxx**

"Ichigo my son!" Isshin said, charging into his room as Ichigo finished tying his tie. "Wasn't this a good idea! Coming back to your roots?"

Ichigo dodged the extended leg Isshin was aiming at his head, and his father fell flat on his face.

It felt weird being back here. Back "home" as so many people chose to say when they met him on the street ("Isn't it great to be back home, Ichigo?"), and he would have to lie and say that it was. When in reality he was think that it was feeling rather awkward to be back here. Especially to be getting ready in his old room, in his childhood home, near the clinic.

Thinking about everything in a relative aspect didn't do much for him. Sure this was his room, this was his house, and that was the family clinic, but it felt too surreal being back in Karakura after six years.

He felt a little guilty about losing touch with a lot of them with the occasional holiday card and e-mail update being the exception. He didn't feel ready or prepared to see any of those faces from his past. Except one that is.

"And what luck that your class reunion is tonight!" Isshin yelled, running from one end of his room to the other.

"If you mean lucky that you successfully tricked me then I'll admit that you did a very good job at doing that," he mumbled, looking down at his chest as he looped the blue material over itself, looking into a mirror that hung near his closet.

Taking advantage of the opening, Isshin elbowed his son in the back. "I heard that," he chuckled, leaving the room. "And have fun tonight," he said over his shoulder.

**xxxxx**

Whoever invented the high school reunion needed an outlet to show off, Ichigo thought bitterly as he escaped yet another story of how one of his classmates got their promotion.

He found an empty table that bordered the dance floor and took a seat, debating whether an hour at this stupid shindig was adequate enough for him to leave. Looking around the dimly lit ballroom of the Karakura Hotel, he couldn't place a name of half of the people there and was starting to feel that coming here was a stupid idea. It wasn't as if she was coming anyways. Orihime did say that she never replied. He looked at his watch again.

"Ichigo!" he heard Orihime approach, and he automatically plastered a smile on his face as he stood up to greet her. Probably two hours and he could leave.

Orihime waved as she walked towards him. "Ichigo!" He stood up, straightening his jacket and tie. She reached over and hugged him excitedly. "Doesn't it look great?" She asked, looking at the blue, red, and gold balloons, crepe paper, and pennants that plastered the walls of the posh looking ballroom.

Ichigo followed her gaze. The design was either to inspire sentimental school spirit or bring him back to school dances in the gym. "Yeah. Keigo did a really good job," he lied.

"Why thank you Ichigo!" Ichigo turned around and came face to face with the man himself. "I've been known to throw a good party back in my day," he said suavely.

"Yes," Mizuiro agreed, taking the seat next to Ichigo. "Exactly one."

Ichigo chuckled as everyone took seats. He nodded toward Uryu and Chad, who followed behind Orihime and took the seats next to him.

"Why do you guys have to bring me down!" Keigo cried, still standing. "Here Ichigo is giving me a compliment and you have to ruin it!"

"That's the truth you're feeling Asano," Tatsuki said, taking the seat at the round table across from Ichigo. "It has nothing to do with us."

Keigo looked around, noticing that all seats were occupied, and ended up standing behind Orihime's seat. "Hmpf. I'm not talking to any of you except Ichigo and Orihime."

"Go ahead," Uryuu said. He wrapped his arm around Orihime protectively. "You're not withholding anything important."

The entire table rumbled with laughter and Keigo began to make another rebuttal when someone called him away for more party-planning duties. Mizuiro got up too, spotting a few older women enter the ballroom, who waved him down as if they knew him.

Ichigo smiled, awkwardly, feeling left out of the ease his old friends had gathered around him.

"So," he tested with the table at large, "you guys are still picking on him?"

"Well, there is more to do in Karakura, but he does seem to always be the butt of our jokes," Uryuu replied snidely.

"Oh I didn't mean that—"

"Come on Mr. International Bestseller," Tatsuki chimed in, leaning her chair back on its hind legs. "We haven't seen you since we graduated high school. We all haven't had the luxury of globe trotting."

"So what have you been up to then?" Ichigo asked, ignoring her praise.

She shook her head and cupped her ear, the din from the DJ booth on the stage making it too difficult for proper conversation.

"So what have you been up to then!" Ichigo yelled.

She smiled proudly. "I teach at the local dojo now! Self-defense for women and some beginner classes!"

"That sounds amazing," Ichigo said, genuinely impressed, recalling the times when Tatsuki would kick his ass in gym and at said dojo, then thinking about how safer Karakura would be in the future with Tatsuki passing on her training. "So what's it like?"

"Uh no!" She said, shaking her head. "We're all curious about you, so you spill first," Tatsuki ordered, she leaned forward.

Ichigo was thankful for the dark room and the flashing lights, which hid his blush well. "What's there to spill?" He asked, feigning nonchalance pretty poorly.

"Well, your father said that you're living in New York now?" Orihime asked politely yet loudly.

"Yes," Ichigo waved down a waiter who provided drinks for the rest of the table. "What about you guys?" He looked around, passing the glasses. "Is everyone still in Karakura?"

"I've been between here and Mexico," Chad replied, passing the next glass to Uryuu, who passed it to his wife, then Tatsuki, until everyone had a glass. "But mostly here."

"Sounds good," Ichigo nodded, taking a sip from the flute of Champagne.

"He's not telling you everything," Orihime inputted, passing her glass to Tatsuki. "Chad's a guidance counselor at the school during the year, but he goes back to Mexico during the summer for his philanthropy."

Ichigo turned toward his old best friend with new found respect. "Really? I didn't know that." The guilt pit in his stomach grew.

Orihime threw Chad a proud look, and the giant looked down, not saying anything, which was his usual response. Everyone let it go.

"Uryuu's taking over his dad's hospital," Orihime gushed, hugging her husband like a proud hen. "He's saved millions of dollars with the new changes."

"Orihime," Uryuu muttered, his blush noticeable on his pale skin despite the darkness and the colored lights.

"What?" she asked in disbelief.

"Orihime," Tatsuki laughed, sliding the flute back to her. "I already got one."

Orihime looked at the glass and slid it back. "No thanks Tatsuki. I can't drink."

"What do you mean you can't drink?" Tatsuki asked as she took the offending glass and knocking it back. "You're not pregnant are you?" She joked.

The entire table turned to face her curiously. She smiled widely, waving her hands in front of her, blushing madly. "No-no-no I'm not pregnant!" she assured everyone, and they relaxed considerably, barely hearing her next sentence. "I just think I might be."

Ichigo wasn't sure who panicked more: Uryuu or Tatsuki. "ORIHIME!" They said in unison. Both of them stared at her with the same expression of disbelief and concern.

She blushed. "I didn't want to make a big deal yet or anything."

"Since when?" Uryuu asked in disbelief, his eyes wandering down to his wife's stomach as if he was missing something.

Orihime looked up toward the ceiling, finger pointed at her chin in what everyone there knew to be as her Thinking Face. "Well since that time we had sex at—"

Everyone at the table's sweat dropped. Uryuu blushed and quickly made excuses before dragging his wife away to continue the talk in private.

"Well," Tatsuki said, turning around to face the two remaining people seated at the table. "That was—"

"Surprising?" Ichigo finished, and Chad nodded, throwing his Champagne back before getting up, mumbling something about getting ready for his set before disappearing behind stage.

Ichigo turned to Tatsuki for elaboration. "Chad's band is playing tonight."

He raised his eyebrows. "Really? I thought they broke up."

She shook her head, barely hearing him over the loud, stereophonic sounds of some dance song pumping from nearby speakers. "They've been practicing for the past year or so," she shouted.

Ichigo nodded, looking around, eyeing the entrance then the bar.

Tatsuki followed his gaze, leaning her elbow on the back of her chair as she turned around. Turning back around, she sent him a knowing smile as he looked at her. "What?"

She smirked and sipped her drink. "I haven't seen her either."

Ichigo looked over her head, pretending to do a general scope of the room and the dancers behind her. "Hmm? Her who?" he asked a little too quickly.

She got up and pulled the seat up next to him, the one Mizuiro had occupied earlier. "Don't give me that shit. We both know that you're looking for one specific person."

He sat back into his chair. "Fine. You win. So, how is she?"

She shrugged, facing the dace floor. "Fine I guess. I haven't seen her for a couple of months. She's been in England."

"And have you heard from her recently?"

Tatsuki grabbed a new glass from a passing waiter. Taking a sip she shook her head, "Not really, but more often from her than you." She raised her eyebrows as a challenge.

He attempted to look pitiful. "Sorry. I'll try to e-mail more."

She shook her head. "Nu-uh e-mails don't cut it with childhood friends Ichigo. You should know that."

He picked up his glass again. "Fine. I'll call more often."

"I'll hold you to it." She toasted her glass against his own, and as another waiter passed by, Tatsuki stood to grab the bowl of shrimp cocktails without the waiter noticing. Sitting back down, she placed the tray of onto the table. "From these questions I'm guessing you haven't heard from her in a while either?"

He shook his head. "I tried calling her once," he admitted a little reluctantly, "a few years ago."

"That long?" He glared at her, and she dipped a prawn into the sauce and took a polite bite. "I mean," she changed her tone to sound more concerned, "and how'd that go?"

Ichigo laughed. "'We're sorry, but the number you just dialed is currently out of service,'" he repeated. "I never thought that an automated rejection would be as harsh as a real one."

Tatsuki laughed lightly. "So you never told her?"

He smiled dully as he shook his head. "No."

"Good."

"Why?"

She got up, picking up one last prawn before pushing in her chair. She gestured toward the entrance way with the shellfish as she looked at him then at the door. "Because now's your chance. She's here."

**xxxxx**

_**A/N:**__ I'm really sorry to end it here, but I'm all written out for right now and only see this as an okay stopping point. This is my first attempt at a multiple chapter like story, so I'm a little bit excited!_

_This is meant to be a story with flashbacks, and I do want to recall a few things from high school for them, so we'll just see how that goes._

_And as always, thanks for reading!_

_-Coffee Filters_


	2. Reunion

_**A/N:**__ Thanks for all the reviews and interest in this story! Just in case it gets a bit confusing, the italicize is the past. I also found this awesome song that matched this perfectly so I posted some of it. Here's chapter two! _

_**Rating and Disclaimer:**__ See Chapter 1_

**Chapter 2: Reunion**

In the year of my decline  
sucking freezies in the rain  
driving twisted in the suburbs  
and then driving back again  
seventeen and half alive  
headlights illuminate the school  
inhale the powder from the science class, yeah nearly dying felt so cool  
your face is all that hasn't changed  
you're reassembled just like me  
but when I reach to touch your hand  
you stroke mine gently

**xxxxx**

_Ichigo Kurosaki, age: fifteen, eyes: brown, hair: orange, occupation: student, was not having a good day._

_He woke up at four in the morning to the chaotic sound of a moving truck plowing through the side of his house, leaving an elephant sized hole in their living room. The driver apologized profusely, excusing the accident on a stray cat crossing the road, but promised to come back in the morning with a representative from his company. The Kurosakis spent the rest of the morning salvaging and cleaning what they could, which consequently, left Ichigo sleepy, angry, and late for school._

"_Ichigoooo!" Keigo greeted excitedly, slapping the drowsy teenager on the back. "Where have you been? You've missed our first two classes!"_

_Ichigo shrugged Keigo's hand off his shoulder and continued walking into the classroom. "Yeah," he made his way to his row. "A truck crashed into my house. We had a lot of stuff to go through and—"_

_He stopped short. Looking down at his desk, he saw that someone else's schoolbag was hanging from the back of the chair and someone else's papers were strewn across the desktop, which could only mean that someone else was sitting in his seat. "Keigo…?"_

"_Ichigo!" Ichigo looked up to find Mizuiro walking towards him. "Ichigo have you met--?"_

"_Hey Mizuiro," Ichigo replied, barely looking up to acknowledge him. "Do you know whose stuff—?"_

"—_the new transfer student from the Shinigami Academy in the next district?"_

"—_this is?"_

"_Rukia Kuchiki?"_

_Ichigo looked up, confused, and came face to face with one of the shortest girls he had ever met._

"_Hi!" Her shoulder length black hair bobbed as she greeted sweetly. An annoying kind of sweet, Ichigo thought. "You're Ichigo right?" She had her hand out in that usual gesture of goodwill, but Ichigo just looked at her, still in shock._

_He looked into her eyes, which were a shocking violet color, and gave a nod. A tiny flicker of annoyance graced her features for a second before she shoved her hand in his direction again._

_Gripping the offered hand, he pumped her arm reluctantly. "Ichigo Kurosaki. Nice to meet you."_

"_You too," she gushed as they let go. She eyed the two boys beside her flirtatiously, "Mizuiro and Keigo told me so much about you!"_

_Ichigo shoved his hands in his pockets, slouching. "Is that so?" He looked from one red face to the other. "Did they also tell you that this," he gestured downward, "was my desk?"_

_He noticed that there was a slight pucker between her eyes brows and her lips pursed just a tiny bit before reverting into another plastic smile. "Oh I'm so sorry Ichigo!" She apologized. "When the teacher put me here I had no idea that—"_

"_Hang on Ichigo!" Tatsuki said, coming up from behind him and slapping him from the back of the head. "She's new here you idiot! The least you could do is let her sit here!"_

_Ichigo rubbed the back of his head. "What? I wasn't kicking her out!"_

"_You might as well have said that!" Tatsuki: The Defender of the Girls yelled._

"_No. It was a statement of fact: it's my seat."_

"_It's a crummy seat just let her sit there."_

"_I never said she couldn't sit here I just—"_

"_Rukia!" Keigo offered loudly. "You can share my seat with me!" He held his hands abreast dramatically._

_They all turned to her to see how she took this. She blushed prettily but shook her head in the resounding negative. "That's very generous of you Keigo, but I don't think that would be appropria—"_

"_You're such a perv Keigo!" Tatsuki yelled, punching him hard in the shoulder._

"_GAH!" He cradled his arm tenderly. "I was trying to be a good host!"_

"_Stop hitting on her!"_

"_Well, why don't you stop hitting on me!"_

"_That's not I meant you—" Mizuiro chuckled as he watched Tatsuki deliver another blow, while Ichigo tuned them out and turned toward this new girl._

_Rukia shrugged and turned to his seat, collecting the papers into a neat pile and unzipping her book bag. All good signs pointing that she was movin—then she dropped her bag under the desk and plopped down decidedly._

"_Wha—What was that?!"_

_She looked up at him quizzically. "What was what?"_

_He pointed an accusing finger at her. "You know what! It looked like you were moving! It's MY seat!"_

"_You were late to class and the teacher just sat me here. Where do you want me to go?"_

"_I don't care! It's my seat!"_

"_Jerk." She muttered, turning away from him._

"_Tease."_

_She twisted to face him fully, one of her elbows leaning on the back of the seat and the other on the desk. "Why can't you just be a gentleman and let me sit here for the day?"_

"_Why can't you be a courteous newcomer and learn the rules?" _

"_Oh for the love of," Rukia stopped herself. "It's just a seat. Why would it matter anyway?"_

_He grimaced. "It just does!"_

"_But why?"_

"_It's the principle of the thing that's why!"_

"_You men and your principles! Have you ever thought that that sounds pretty petty?"_

"_Women don't understand. You guys are too nice and let each other step aside too easily."_

"_Oh?" she asked, eyebrows raised challengingly. "So we're doormats?"_

"_No. You just give up too easily."_

"_We _women," she replied, "_just choose our battles wisely." She turned back to face the blackboard, "unlike some narrow-minded chauvinists."_

_Ichigo looked deadpanned. "You think I'm a chauvinist?" Really? Was he really getting into this argument with someone he just met?_

_She plastered a tight smile on her face and turned to face him again. "From this first impression? Yes," and she righted herself in the seat._

"_You're one to talk!"_

"_What's that supposed to mean?" she gritted._

"_This whole 'fake' persona you're putting on for everyone."_

"_I'm not being fake," she muttered._

"_And why do you use that voice?"_

"_What voice?"_

"_That 'sweet' voice."_

"_It's called being nice."_

"_It's called being annoying."_

_She gave him a look so unlike her previous sweet-self that Ichigo couldn't help but thinking that she looked more natural when she glared at him._

"_Ichigo?" He turned around to find Orihime standing there._

_The new girl looked up too, the sour expression evaporated from her face as if it wasn't even there._

_Orihime smiled at both of them. "Oh! You're welcoming Rukia to class! That's so nice of you Ichigo!" She looked to Rukia. "I'm so glad that you two are becoming friends."_

_Rukia shot another glare in his direction that went unnoticed by Orihime. "Oh yes," she replied with sarcastic enthusiasm. "The best."_

**xxxxx**

She looked the same.

That was what Ichigo noticed first when he watched his old best friend enter the dimly lit ballroom, and despite the moving lights and varying beams of color, he could tell that she was exactly the same Rukia Kuchiki from all those years ago.

He barely moved, let alone breathed, as she stood at the doorway to the ballroom, choosing instead to watch her from this safe distance hidden by the many bodies scattering the dance floor.

She stood on the balls of her heels, her head inclined as her violet eyes roamed over the entire room, moving from face to face as if looking for someone in particular. He didn't dare let himself think that it was him.

"RUKIA!"

The loud holler woke him up, and Ichigo turned to look at Tatsuki, who was cupping one hand around her mouth, shouting, and waving her other arm wildly to get the tiny girl's attention. "Rukia! Over here!"

He looked over to see if Tatsuki did indeed get the girl's attention and felt a mingle of emotions as he saw a spark of recognition cross her features. The worry in her forehead disappeared and a small smile graced her lips as she took a few tentative steps toward their general direction, her black dress swinging with each careful step.

Oh. No.

No. He wasn't ready for this.

Tatsuki continued to stand there and wave as if it were normal behavior, when Ichigo yanked her arm down, hard. "Ah! What the hell Ichigo?" She asked, slapping his hand away.

Ichigo slumped over and looked over his shoulder to see that Rukia was still making her way around the crowded dance floor. "Me? What the hell are you doing?" he whispered fiercely.

Tatsuki adjusted her blouse and fixed her precarious position on the seat before replying. "What? It's only Rukia. You guys used to be best friends back in the day."

"That's exactly it. 'Used to' being the operative words there." He looked up to see her talking to Mizuiro and the group of women from earlier, glad for the obstacle.

Tatsuki glanced back at their topic of conversation. "What do you mean?" She whispered back.

Ichigo groaned. "I did want to see her tonight," he admitted. "I mean that I _thought_ that I wanted to see her, but I wasn't thinking properly. There's a reason why I didn't tell her—"

They heard a girlish squeal nearby and looked up to see a jumping Rukia suffocating Orihime in what could be interpreted as a hug. Uryuu stood by, trying to peal her away from his now delicate wife.

"Well," Tatsuki chuckled. "I guess she knows about that at least."

Ichigo grabbed her wrist to get her attention. "This wasn't a good idea after all."

"Don't be an ass," she advised, standing up as the three of them approached. "She's an old friend. Whatever's bothering you obviously isn't bothering her."

Ichigo stood up too. "I guess…"

"Well you better know," Tatsuki warned under her breath. "Because she's right here."

Ichigo turned to mimic Tatsuki's gaze, preparing himself for the worst as he came to face the undeniable smirk of one Rukia Kuchiki.

"Ichigo Kurosaki," she said haughtily.

He breached a smile. "Rukia Ku—oomph." He now understood why Uryuu looked so concerned before. Rukia's hugs were rib breaking at minimal. He made an attempt to force her off of him, which she ignored completely.

"Idiot," she breathed, taking a step back, a genuine smile gracing her features. "Where have you been?"

Ichigo's brain attempted to churn a genial-yet-teasing response to match her own and was annoyed to find that he was at a loss for words yet again.

"Isn't it great?" Orihime said instead, taking the offered seat for her at the table. "All of us being here at the same time?"

"Oh yes," Rukia agreed, taking the seat Ichigo just vacated. There was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she looked up at him, scooting the chair towards the table. "The best."

**xxxxx**

"_It was _your_ moving truck that ran into my house?" Ichigo asked in disbelief. He gripped the door knob either for support or to hold back his own anger. He wasn't sure yet._

_The short girl on his doorstep nodded a little guiltily. "Yes. I've come to apologize."_

_He continued to look at her with the same shocked face. "There's no need. The driver said he'd send someone over."_

_She nodded. "Yeah, but I think that we got on the wrong foot today." She gave him an awkward sort of smirk as she extended her hand. "I'm Rukia Kuchiki."_

_Ichigo eyed her suspiciously before gripping her hand. "Ichigo Kurosaki."_

_She beamed. "Nice to meet you."_

"_Yeah, yeah you to." He gestured toward the gaping hole in their house. "Now what are you going to do about that?"_

_She barely looked at it before giving a careless shrug and replying. "My brother will take care of the expenses."_

"_What do you mean? That's an insane amount of damage there."_

_She nodded. "Yeah. My brother will take care of it."_

_His eyes turned toward her suspiciously. "Rukia Kuchiki…Who exactly are you?"_

_She laughed lightly. "Ichigo Kurosaki, I'm your new classmate."_

**xxxxx**

"I'm telling you Uryuu," Rukia was saying. "You need to just consider it."

Uryuu shook his head as if he were older than his twenty-odd years. "That's really kind of you Rukia, but I'm not interested."

Rukia pursed her lips testily. "I'm serious! When I was in France this January, my friend was about to steal this dress from me!" She pulled the edge of her scoop neck for emphasis.

Uryuu laughed it off good humouredly, his arm unconsciously wrapping around Orihime's shoulders. "I'm sure you could take her."

"It really is a lovely dress Uryuu," Orihime said, kissing him on the cheek. "Maybe Rukia's right…?"

Rukia smiled triumphantly.

"The answer's still no," Uryuu said, arm tightening around his wife. "I'm perfectly happy with directing the hospital."

Rukia harrumphed. "Fine, but if you do change your mind…"

"I'll be sure to call you," he assured her.

"Why—?" Ichigo began, looking from the two with a confused look on his face.

"Rukia's taken it on her shoulders to become a patron of the arts," Uryuu replied before Ichigo could finish. "She apparently believes that I my handicrafts would sell."

"Not apparently," she corrected. "I know."

"Whatever it is," Tatsuki continued, turning toward Ichigo. "Rukia's been scouring the globe for down and out artists who need her to—what was the phrase you used again?" She asked.

"Blossom," Rukia replied, picking up her glass. "There are all these really talented people, and they just need to push—"

"Or threats," Uryuu whispered loudly.

She shot him an evil look. "—to become successful in their position."

"Which is why she's been England the past few months," Tatsuki explained.

"Germany actually," Rukia corrected, taking a sip of her champagne flute.

"Oh," Orihime said, sharing the plate of shrimp with Tatsuki. "I thought that you said you'd be in London for the summer."

Rukia set her glass down. "I did. I mean I was, but I started following this graffiti artist online and saw that most of his work was based in Germany. I packed everything and left after that."

Tatsuki's eyes widened in Ichigo's direction, trying to get his attention, but he ignored it. Feigning indifference, she picked up a prawn from the middle of the table. "Ichigo," She asked, hiding her smirk behind a napkin, "weren't you just in Germany a few months ago?"

He shot daggers at her. "Yeah," he mumbled, then more loudly, "Yeah. Book tours and stuff."

"Really?" Rukia asked, truly interested. "Did you have fun?"

He wagged his head vaguely. "I didn't get to play tourist much," he excused. He cringed at how boring he sounded. "It was a strict business schedule."

The table nodded, not knowing where to carry on after than. Orihime looked at the plate in front of her, Rukia smiled in response, Tatsuki gave a confused look, and Ichigo mentally slapped himself for killing the conversation.

But through the amazing grace that was Chad's band, a new song started up, filling the awkward silence for them.

"Oh! I remember this song!" Orihime swayed in time in her seat. She stood up excitedly. "Uryuu! Let's dance!"

"Orihime," he protested. "You're in a very delicate condition at the mo—"

"No I'm not," she looked herself up and down. "Uryuu, I'm going to have a baby. I didn't eat one!"

"I know that, it's just that—"

"Oh just take her Uryuu," Tatsuki advised. "She won't be able to do much after the first trimester."

Orihime beamed and dragged her reluctant husband away and into the mass of people gathering around the stage as Chad's band began playing.

"Oh," Tatsuki recalled as if just remembering. "I love this song too. I think—"

"Do you want to dance?" Ichigo asked loudly, already on to her obvious ploy.

"No!" Rukia and Ichigo gave her a funny look. "I mean no," Tatsuki went on more calmly. "I'm going to just catch up with the married ones, just in case Uryuu prevents Orihime from doing anything relatively fun. You two stay," she stood up, glancing specifically at Ichigo, "_talk_." And with that, she allowed herself to be swallowed by the throng of people moving on the dance floor, leaving Ichigo hating her all the more.

**xxxxx**

_Ichigo hated the rain. It always managed to successfully put him in a foul mood for the rest of the day when it rained. _

_The sun was swallowed up by damn grey clouds, and the pavement and grass flowed and pooled with water._

_It reminded him of loss and grief, and Ichigo would rather not focus on those at the moment._

_Instead, he looked up to see a lone figure walking a head of him. Heavy rain pounding onto her slumped shoulders as she walked with slow, deliberate steps; her pink raincoat was slick and shiny as more and more water fell; and her hair was plastered to her skull in a tangled mass. But she continued to walk on, sloshing through the puddles despite her soaking loafers and wet black stockings._

_It had been weeks since she apologized at his house, and although, they were in the same class, he hardly spoke any words to her since other than the occasional exchange of hellos._

"_Idiot," he chided, holding his umbrella over both of their heads as he caught up to her. "Can't your brother at least afford you an umbrella?"_

_She looked up, surprised to see him, but a look of relief crossed her features. "Ichigo? Where did you come from?"_

_He gestured with his head behind him, matching her tiny strides. "So why so unprepared Kuchiki?"_

_She smirked, shoving her hands into her pockets. "I couldn't find mine after the move."_

"_So…" he faltered._

"_So?"_

"_So," he elaborated. "Why did you move?"_

_She shrugged. "Byakuya's—my brother's—business moved camp closer to around here, so naturally I followed."_

"_But why not stay at the Shinigami Academy? It's hard to start all over at a new school."_

"_Districting lines," she explained. "There would have to be a lot of strings to pull to keep me there. Then forty-five minutes to get there, and forty-five to come back?"_

"_Yeah, but I would. It's the middle of the semester…"_

_She looked chagrinned. "I didn't realize that you wanted to get rid of me so soon Ichigo."_

"_No—I mean—I didn't mean it that way—I just—"_

"_No, it's okay. It all comes with being part of the family."_

"_Right." Ichigo mentally slapped himself for killing the conversation. He gripped the umbrella tighter, his mind quickly trying to come up with something else to say._

"_But it still would've been nice if he waited until the summer." She added, looking up, catching him off guard. Embarrassment crept up his face traitorously. "What's with the twenty-one questions?" She joked._

"_What do you mean? We're friends aren't we?" He smirked. "Or, that's what you told Orihime at least." He challenged._

_She turned back to face the sidewalk a head of them. "Friends," she repeated, tasting the word. It looked like she was considering this carefully before looking back up to him. "Yeah. Yeah I guess we are."_

"_Good." For some odd reason, Ichigo needed that assurance from her, and he felt another smirk grow on his face at the thought of it._

"_Good," she repeated, looking a head of them. Stopping, she looked around, "Where are we going anyway?"_

_He stopped two, still holding the umbrella above them. "What? I was following your lead!"_

"_Really?" she asked, clearly amused. "I was following yours."_

"_Do you mean to tell me that we've been walking towards nothing this entire time?"_

"_No," she corrected. "I mean to tell you that you've been leading me nowhere this entire time."_

_He harrumphed. "Great. We'll have to go back," he looked around moodily. It wasn't that far off from school, but retracing unnecessary steps didn't appeal to him very much. "And it's raining."_

"_Why are you complaining? It's not like we're lost or anything."_

"_I hate the rain," Ichigo murmured, half hoping she didn't hear that._

_But with Rukia there was no such luck. She shoved him playfully. "What do you mean?"_

"_It's just so depressing…" he admitted a little reluctantly. "Everything's grey and wet and…" he faltered, feeling embarrassed._

_Rukia nodded, considering his points carefully. "Well, that's true." She eyed the umbrella he was holding, then looked at him, a smile growing as she spoke. "But it does have its benefits." She teased._

_It hit Ichigo so quickly he didn't have time to react. He felt very aware of himself at that moment._

_From his body language to his facial expression. He felt his face heat up just a tiny bit as he returned a smile back. It was like having water dumped all over him. _

…_or an entire puddle splattered onto your back courtesy of a fast moving car._

_Ichigo stopped walking immediately, holding the umbrella stiffly. His face forming into one of shock and displeasure, turning toward Rukia he saw that she was red faced too. _

_She looked surprised. Her face red and her body trembling slightly as she tried to contain her laughter by covering her mouth with her hands. Ichigo shook his now wet hair out of his face and glared at her._

"_And that," she said amidst her guffaws, clutching her gut, "is one of them!"_

_Ichigo scowled all the more, a little annoyed at this tiny girl who was laughing at him, but he didn't lift the umbrella off of her the entire time._

**xxxxx**

It was familiar, this feeling of falling.

Ichigo just didn't know what to make of it this time.

"You don't have to stay here." Well that was one solution.

Ichigo looked up to meet Rukia's eyes from across the table. "Wh-what do you mean?" he asked, forcing a smile.

"You don't have to stay," she repeated in a much louder voice. "It just seemed like you didn't want to be left here with me or something."

"No! No. I just…," he floundered. Speaking to her never was this difficult before, and with the years and lack of communication between them, he would think that he would have paragraphs of stories to share with her, maybe even libraries. But he couldn't.

Looking at the girl sitting across from him, he couldn't manage complete sentence.

That comfortability was gone. The ease with which he could have spoken to her before was gone, and the worst part was they had it before.

She scooted her chair closer towards the table, so she could hear him better. "We haven't seen each other in a forever."

"Not really…" he admitted guiltily. Did she not notice the wall between them? Or the large elephant sitting with them at the table?

"Huh?" she asked, cupping her ear.

"Yeah," he filled in at the same time.

An awkward fission filled the table as he gestured for her to continue and she did the same. They exchanged polite, tight smiles and turned to face the stage and Chad's band. So this was what they were dwindled to? Best friends turned…who the hell knew what they were now.

He stood up, and Rukia turned to him, eyebrows raised.

He walked over to where she sat and leaned down, his mouth mere centimeters from her ear. "Do you want to get out of here? _We_ don't have to stay."

**xxxxx**

I had six too many drinks last night yes  
and that's why I made you stay  
plus I always wanted you

all I want is one more chance  
to be young and wild and free  
all I want is one more chance to show you,  
you were right for me

you were right for me  
reunion, reunion…reunion, reunion…

-_Reunion_, Stars

_**A/N:**__ I'm still working on the balance of the past and present, so if you have any critiques or suggestions please just let me know!_


	3. Kill the Director

**Chapter 3: Kill the Director**

Pushing his way through the heavy revolving, glass door of the Karakura Hotel, Ichigo had only one thought on his mind: _Did I really just do that? Did I really just ask her that? _

For a few brief moments, he was exposed to the outside elements and he took the time to look around, noting the reflected lights on the shiny asphalt and the droplets of water stuck to the glass, the only evidence that it had just rained. He had enough time to take a deep inhale, cold and moist, before pushing the door further for another round.

_Years apart and he asks her that. It was so…corny._

He walked on calmly, pushing the gold handlebar ahead of him as if this was completely normal, and it was. Peaceful even. Ichigo couldn't fathom another way to kill time then revolving through this door again and again, like a child who just discovered a rollercoaster. And, being Ichigo, the symbolism wasn't lost on him either.

_Maybe it was a mistake to come here after all?_

He was caught in a limbo, between two choices: in or out, entrance or exit, giving him something to do or just giving him an excuse to procrastinate.

"Ahem…?"

Ichigo looked up to see a rotund looking doorman staring at him from the other side of the glass, waiting for him on the other side. Apparently, revolving through the revolving door more than once was a bad thing.

Sheepishly, he pushed himself further and took those fateful steps outside only to be conscious about how he had absolutely no idea what he was doing now.

Turning both ways he decided to take his chances away from the suspicious looking doorman and walked to a nearby column to collect himself, he wasn't through revolving yet and he resented the man for making him decide so abruptly.

Then he felt it: a sudden jolt, a buzz of anticipation, he was vibrating.

Not in the physical sense of course, although he wasn't vibrating in the figurative sense either. And, no, it wasn't a dirty sort of vibration he was feeling, although it was coming from the pocket of his trousers.

Ichigo smirked at the double entendre that "vibrate" could elicit, shook his head, and decided to pace further down the slick sidewalk. He did consider the possibility that this startling vibration feeling arose because he was again in contact with a one Rukia Kuchiki.

Rukia Kuchiki.

Rukia Kuchiki who was his best friend from high school.

Rukia Kuchiki who he hadn't spoken to since…well he hadn't had a real conversation with Rukia since high school actually. The last time he even attempted to talk to her was when she was—

He shook his head to scramble the thoughts, hoping a physical prompt might do the job for him.

Why was it so difficult for him to even recall when he last spoke to her? They were friends. Good friends. Inseparable friends really, and yet here they were: dissolved into a cliché. Meeting at a reunion after years of separation? Having so much to say to one another and yet not having the balls to say anything at all? Ichigo would've closed the book had he been reading, and what was worse was that he was playing his role swimmingly.

_We don't have to stay_.

Ichigo mentally cringed. Did he really just say that? Who the hell did he think he was exactly?

The obvious answer was that he was Ichigo, a writer, a writer with dignity and—hopefully at least some— tact and originality. Yet here he was delivering cheesy one-liners as if he were Rico Suave or a teenager trying to get some (aka Keigo). On paper, the audience would see right through that, he thought bitterly.

But it just came out, he reasoned. It came out without any mental editing or future planning. It escaped before he could even consider it as a real, coherent idea, taking the role of traitorous thoughts to a literal level. Damn him and damn his mind, he thought broodingly, tapping his breast pocket, wondering if the hotel had a no smoking policy if he was still in wind of their doors.

The only comfort in all this was that Rukia was as much a part of this game as he was. Because when he delivered his line for the entire world to hear, she turned to him, his face a mere inch or two from her face, and smiled, like it was all part of the plot.

He could see it clearly typed as if he wrote it on his screen back in his dimly lit apartment back in New York.

_Her smile, nondescript._

Smiles were traitorous little bastards, he mused, leading and misleading the masses for centuries. How many times had he gone in public, approached a woman who had the moxy to send him a smile across the bar, only to be led on? How many times had countless of publishers smiled at him, complimented his work, before turning it down? And why was this smile so different?

It's not like he didn't already know her answer, why did people think a smile made a huge difference anyways?

He reached into his breast pocket, pulled the small box out, and began to slide one of the light, paper fixes out, when he saw the doorman glare daggers at him again. Sighing, he shoved the stick back in and leaned against one of the nearby, cement columns, allowing the cool night air to envelope him.

His dad hated him smoking too.

Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzz. Bzzzzz.

The vibration became annoyingly insistent again, and Ichigo recalled the buzzing from before, stupidly realizing that it was his mobile and not his anxiety. So surreal was Ichigo Kurosaki feeling at the moment that he momentarily forgot about those devices that led to the outside world such as cell phones, but instead of immediately picking up his mobile out of his back pocket, he let the vibration pattern stop before reaching behind him to get it. He considered his options of who it could possibly be:

Tatsuki. She would be wondering where he ran off to or wanting to know how _it_ went.

His Father. He would be wondering what he was doing, if he ran into anyone in particular, or his super-secret father senses were tingling and he knew that his son was just about to nicotine-it-up.

Yoruichi. She did say that she would call him tonight. Then again she basically made up his phone history, and it was more likely that it was her than anyone else.

Silently, he decided that if it were any of them, then he'd just forget it. Pressing one of the side buttons, he checked the now lit up screen: _2 Text Messages_. Intriguing as that promise was, Ichigo wasn't in the mood to read them.

"Anything important?" a voice asked.

Ichigo looked up, startled. "No." Then more confidently. "No." He pushed the device into his back pocket.

Rukia Kuchiki stood before him, looking uncertain. "Okay?"

"Yeah…did you get your coat?"

She raised her arm slowly, showing him the balled up leather in one hand, and shouldered her bag. "You can take that if you need to," she said politely gesturing to his now missing phone.

Ichigo shook his head. "Nah. It's not really important." He held out his arm. "So? Shall we?"

She nodded, slipping her unburdened arm at his elbow as she shot him another smile, just like the one in the ballroom, bringing him back to that moment.

His face mere inches from her ear as he said it, _We don't have to stay._

And her face as she turned to him, a genuine smile slowly growing.

It was a simple acceptance.

A smile, a look, a "yes."

Just one word, one syllable, barely a sound really.

Almost a sigh.

But an agreement all the same.

…and why did it have this effect on him?

**xxxxx**

"_Aren't you coming?"_

_Ichigo looked up to see his excited friend looming over his desk. "What are you talking about Keigo?" he asked calmly._

"_Movies," Chad piped up, appearing out of nowhere, doing his usual one-word explanations._

"_I'm not sure…" he replied hesitantly, glancing up at the giant then at Keigo._

"_You have to go!" Keigo yelled, tears threatening to fall down his face, hands flailing wildly. "If you don't go, Rukia won't go. If she doesn't go, then Orihime and Tatsuki won't coooommmmmeeeee!" He fisted his hands in the air like a petulant child, and Ichigo and Chad pretended to not notice._

"—_and if they don't come then Uryuu won't come either," Mizuiro added, appearing out of nowhere too. He dropped his bag onto his desk and waved a greeting to the other students entering the classroom._

_Keigo stopped immediately to consider this. "That's not really a loss actually." The prospect brightening in his mind._

"_You do know that I'm right here right?" said a voice close to Ichigo's elbow._

"_Oh Uryuu!" Keigo laughed nervously, eyeing the speaker cautiously. "…uh…How long have you been standing there buddy?"_

_Mizuiro, Chad, and Ichigo exchanged tight smiles._

"_Literally since you've been talking," was the short reply as he made his way to his desk._

_Ichigo swore he saw Keigo's sweat drop. "Right…"_

"_You're welcome to come Uryuu," Ichigo called out amiably._

"_Wait! Does that mean you're coming?" Keigo asked excitedly._

"_No…"_

"_Ichigo! You can't just invite people when you're not even coming!"_

"_Why not?"_

_Keigo stopped. "You can't just dump people on me!"_

"_That's funny," Mizuiro said thoughtfully. "Because you told me that you were just inviting Ichigo so Rukia would come."_

_Ichigo shot a look at Keigo, whose face was blazing red. "I-I n-never said that! Right Chad?" He turned to him for help._

"_Mu—"_

"_How can you guys rat me out like that? I thought that we were frieeeeennnndss?"_

"_Friends don't stake out other friend's girls," Mizuiro prophesized._

"_Rukia's not my girl," Ichigo corrected. _

_Keigo looked at him in shock. "You're not…?" he tilted his head as if to imply more, and Ichigo refused to even fathom the double meaning in that._

"_We're not."_

"_But you guys hang out an awful lot and you're the only guy she really talks to," Keigo protested. _

"—_and when I asked if she'd come she asked if you were coming," Mizuiro added suggestively._

_Ichigo remained unmoved. "Because we're friends." He made sure to stress the last word for everyone's benefit._

_There was an intense staring match before Keigo threw his hands in the air, "Fine. Well I'm a friend too, so do a friend a favor and hook us up!"_

"_No way!" Ichigo opened the textbook on his desk. "Ask her yourself."_

"_I would but you forget that she wanted to know if you were coming," Keigo pointed out._

"_Then I guess she's not going."_

"_Come on Ichigo! You can't just keep her to yourself!"_

"_I'm not doing anything."_

"_Besides," Keigo argued. "I thought that you didn't like her?"_

"_I don't," Ichigo protested forcefully, too forcefully, "but I know a creep when I'm friends with one."_

"_Some friend," Keigo huffed sulkily making his way to his seat as their teacher came into the room._

_Ichigo wished that that would have been the end of the matter, but he was blithely unaware of how high school worked at the time. To his chagrin, he was accosted again on the roof during lunch where movie talk was still abuzz in the group._

"_Maybe you should ask Rukia to join us?" Tatsuki suggested casually, breaking open her chip bag as she spoke._

_He tried to look nonplused as he ate. "Why would I do that?"_

"_Oh? No reason…" she said leadingly._

"_Or it might be because you have this massive crush on her?" Ichigo almost had a spit take. Looking up, there was a glint in Uryuu's glasses as he ate his lunch, sitting across from him._

_Ichigo recovered quickly. "Shut-up. You don't know what you're talking about."_

"_What?" Uryuu continued defensively. "You two are always hanging around each other."_

"_It could be because we're friends."_

"_If that's what friends are then we must be enemies," Tatsuki chipped in and Ichigo shot her a glare._

_He looked at Chad on his right, and his friend shrugged. "Why do I feel like this was a trap?"_

"_That's all you Ichigo," Tatsuki excused. "Besides we don't have much time with Orihime distrac—er—walking Rukia to the bathrooms."_

_If Tatsuki were a guy, Ichigo would've hit her._

"_Is everyone in on this?"_

"_Don't be so vain Kurosaki," Uryuu reprimanded. "I am in no way interested in your love life."_

"_Please don't tell me that this shanghai is about my love life," he looked from Uryuu to Chad, hoping that some sense was part of this circle._

"_Keigo's not part of this," Chad supplied and Ichigo gave him a tortured look._

"_Will you guys just leave us alone?" he asked. "It's bad enough that you guys keep asking me about it."_

"_Oh we ask her too!" Tatsuki added._

"_Great," he replied sarcastically. "That won't make our relationship the least bit awkward."_

"_What relationship? You guys are just _friends_," she held exaggerated air quotes on the last word for emphasis._

"_That still qualifies as a relationship."_

"_Whatever Ichigo," Tatsuki waved him off. "I don't know what you call yourselves, but just go ahead and ask her if you want everyone to leave you alone."_

_The logic on that was lost on him. "I'm sorry, but I think asking her out would just lead people to talk."_

"Not_ asking her has led people to talk."_

"_No just you," he corrected, "and I'm beginning to wonder if I can classify you guys as people right now…"_

"_Do you want to know what she said about you?" Tatsuki teased, munching on a chip._

_She said something about him? Was it— "…no."_

"_Petulance will get you nowhere my friend," Tatsuki advised. "She said that…"_

_For a split second Ichigo was tempted to let her talk. It wasn't as if he asked her to tell him, she was supplying the information willingly, but the idea seemed like spying or gossiping and he didn't want to be a part of it._

_Besides, they were just friends, and he needed to make sure everyone knew that._

"_I don't care," Ichigo responded loudly, then more hastily, "She's coming, so drop it."_

_And sure enough, Orihime and Rukia were walking towards them, talking animatedly to one another. Ichigo shot everyone a cautionary glare and the lunch circle turned an uncomfortable quiet, the only sound being the crunch of chips and food when a high pitched squeal interrupted their thoughts._

_Looking up, Ichigo saw that the eerie sound escaped from Rukia, who was staring past their group, farther down the roof. He followed her wide expression and saw a lone teenager, dressed in a black school uniform, wearing an expression of complete smugness. Rukia's face was a mix of utter surprise and complete happiness. She took off running toward him in an instant. "Kaien!" she squealed._

_Ichigo heard Orihime take up the space near Tatsuki. "Who is that?" her friend asked, turning briefly to look at her._

_Orihime shrugged and stole a chip from Tatsuki. "Don't know. She told me to go on a head when she saw him."_

_Ichigo looked to see that it wasn't just them watching anymore. Many kids were turned to what the new transfer student was doing on the roof with a stranger._

"_I would guess that be one of Rukia's friends from the Shinigami Academy," Uryuu said, eyeing the uniform of the stranger. "Their uniforms are black."_

_They watched as Rukia ran up to hug the gangly, dark haired man, yelling loud enough for them to hear her excited tone. "Kaien!" she jumped up, wrapping her arms around his neck._

"_She's really happy to see a familiar face," Orihime noted, stealing another chip from Tatsuki. "These could really use some red bean paste Tatsuki." Tatsuki made a face._

"_Yeah…" Ichigo heard himself reply, not knowing if he was agreeing to the first comment or the one about bean paste. He was still watching the pair down the way. _

_Rukia smiled, leaning back as if to get a good look at him, before quickly grabbing his chin, pulling this Kaien into a kiss._

_Everyone in the circle looked down politely and turned back to each other as if nothing had just happened. Awkward silence reigned over them and they pretended to eat, hardly looking at one another, least of all Ichigo._

"_She—um," Uryuu said at length, making himself the polar bear to break the ice that had just formulated, "must really miss the Shinigami Academy then."_

_That earned a few chuckles round the circle and a stinted normalcy returned. Keigo and Mizuiro arrived and took the open spots near Orhihime and Uryuu, Chad made gruff noises to the questions Uryuu posed to him. Tatsuki tried to prevent Orihime from putting said red bean paste onto her remaining chips. Ichigo laughed and joked as if nothing had just occurred, but at one point he noticed that Rukia hadn't come back yet._

_Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted that Kaien guy bending his head close to her ear, obviously asking her something, and he watched as Rukia's face turned toward him, her lips slowly growing into a smile, her head bobbing a "yes" to whatever he just said._

_It was a simple acceptance. A smile and a look, which read "yes." _

_And the two left the roof, but Ichigo didn't care. They were just friends after all, him and Rukia._

_He just didn't understand why it had this effect on him._

**xxxxx**

True to reunion, catch-up form, Ichigo noted, they found themselves at a nearby coffee shop, which played up to the cliché already.

But, he excused, it was one of the only places nearby that was still open and that welcomed people to loiter, so it wasn't really his fault that his life had turned into some predictable fiction.

Besides, when in doubt of where to go, one always ended up at a coffee shop. It was the neutral of neutral zones, like the Belgium of hang outs, and here they are sitting across from one another at those pint-sized tables, big enough to only hold your elbows and one cup, looking at anything besides each other.

Well, that was technically untrue, because as Rukia turned and read the menu over the nearby counter, elbow resting on the faux wood top, fingers lightly tapping to the jazz playing overhead, Ichigo took the opportunity to glance at her.

Just one glance.

A small, millisecond of weakness that let him know everything he needed to know: They were grown up.

This Rukia Kuchiki was wearing a black, swishy dress apparently made by Uryuu. She wore and walked in clickety heels. Her face had small traces of make-up around the eye, and her hair was pinned up in a tidy chignon, dragging it all away from her face. This Rukia was as adult as he was, he realized, which not only made him feel old but nostalgic.

The Rukia he remembered was messy. Her fingernails were either covered in paint splots, which sometimes ventured toward her forearms, or chipped from being bitten. She considered make-up Chappy lip balm, and her hair was hardly ever up with a permanent flank of hair that always flopped over her forehead.

It was weird how those small changes made such a big difference, and how they signified their growth. He could only wonder what she saw when she saw him for the first time tonight. He knew that he hadn't changed his hair cut since high school, same spiky orange hair, same wrinkled, annoyed looking brow.

"—igo?"

Ichigo snapped to attention guiltily, hopping she didn't catch him staring at her. She gave him an odd look as he raised his eyebrows in response.

"Are you ready to order?" She asked and he had that guilty feeling that it wasn't the first time she asked that question.

"Hmm? Uh….yes." They both got up and made their way to the counter, leaving Rukia's balled up jacket and orange bag as seat keepers.

"You go first," Ichigo ordered, taking out his wallet. "My treat."

Rukia smiled and turned to the large man standing behind the cash register, and Ichigo eyed him suspiciously. He looked awfully familiar. He had glasses and a goatee, all which triggered some sort of response in his dead-end brain.

"A small water please?" he heard her ask.

He turned to her, surprised, wallet held open with his thumbs. "That's all you're getting?"

"What?"

"Water? I offer to pay for you and you get water?"

"Be grateful I didn't get one of those complicated coffee orders," she laughed.

"Well it just seems that you're being _ungrateful_ for my offer," he said a little more annoyed than he wanted to convey.

"Ichigo, Ichigo," she tsked. "Stop trying to be the gentleman for once and just accept it."

"Accept what?" he shut his wallet.

She gave him a dubious look as if it were obvious. "That I can handle myself."

"How did you get all of that from me complaining about your order?"

"You freak out over the littlest things," she reprimanded, smiling as the man behind the counter brought her a foam cup with water in it. "Thank you Tessai."

Tessai? He knew that name, Tessai, and looking at the man before him jogged his memory further like it was in a sprint. Tessai! Of course Tessai was the guy who used to teach at Karakura with—

"Ahh Ichigo!" He stopped. He knew that voice. Oh he knew it well enough because if was always criticizing him.

Ichigo looked up to see the speaker of that voice walking toward them on the other side of the counter. The distinct clicking of his signature clogs were a big clue if his voice wasn't, and if that weren't enough then the green and white striped bucket hat that sat atop a mound of sandy white hair were dead giveaways, all which earned him the semi-affectionate nickname—

"Mr. Hat-and-clogs."

A pair of mischievous eyes darted to his face as he stopped right in front of him. "I'd know that loud, over protective voice from anywhere, Ichigo."

**xxxxx**

"_Can you please explain," Ichigo said in a restrained calm tone, "the meaning of this, please?"_

_Urahara Kisuke turned away from the blackboard he was just cleaning to see the orange haired student standing behind him, his face distorted as if he were trying to keep himself together. He turned back to the blackboard, stretching out his arms to erase the chalk marks above him._

"_I believe that that's your persuasive paper," Urahara said to the blackboard. "The one where I asked you to write an argument from the heart."_

"_Yes," came the exasperated reply. "But I meant what you wrote on the paper."_

_Urahara didn't turn around but picked up the chalk resting on the ledge, writing "Today's Assignment" on the board. "They're there to help you make a better paper," he explained, dragging the chalk across the board, a screeching sound escaping slightly._

_Ichigo cringed but flipped his paper open and read as he spoke, "I know that, but you only wrote one word on it."_

_Urahara read what chalked handy work and dusted his hands off calmly. "Well if you can't handle constructive criticism, then I think you should write a better paper." He turned around and took his seat at the desk._

"_Constructive crit—How is writing this," Ichigo held his paper up to the last page. "Constructive criticism?"_

_Urahara scratched his head, lifting his bucket hat slightly off as he read the one word written in bold red. "Well the literal meaning, I believe, is—"_

"_I know what it means," Ichigo cut off, growing angrier by the second. "And aren't you supposed to actually construct criticism? How is a complaint criticism?"_

"_It's just a word Ichigo."_

"_A word that has an implied meaning! We both know what you really think of this!" He stormed._

_Urahara pulled his chair closer to his desk and plopped his elbows onto the top. "And what is that?" he asked patiently, which only fueled Ichigo's ire._

_Ichigo scowled that famous scowl of his, but Urahara didn't react. "You're treating me differently because I have a bad reputation!"_

_The room was silent, and Ichigo immediately regretted saying that aloud. Sure, grown-ups and teachers treated him differently because of his hair and his features, but he never really complained. He always accepted their scorn and proved them wrong with his grades and his effort. He never, never actually confronted it._

_Urahara sat back in his chair, the creak was a like a gasp of air to the conversation. "I'm sure you know what disappointed means Ichigo." It was a statement of fact. Urahara Kisuke was disappointed._

"_I know what it means," he replied a little guilty at his previous outburst. _

"_This has nothing to do with your reputation," Urahara said, and Ichigo remained silent._

_Urahara smirked. "That," he pointed to his paper, "was supposed to be an argument of the heart, and you gave me what you thought I wanted to read. Do you understand?"_

_Ichigo merely nodded._

"_Good." He replied in the subject is closed kind of fashion. '"Now do better on the next one." He pulled out a pen out of his pocket and began rifling through a stack of paper on his desk, signaling to Ichigo that he was dismissed._

_Only that Ichigo didn't feel like being dismissed. _

_He had more to say to this man. This man who was the first to ever scorn his writing. This man who so flippantly gave him a B minus, the same grade as Keigo. Keigo! for goodness' sake! This man who, Ichigo realized, saw right through his bullshit of a paper, and knew that Ichigo was capable of doing better._

_He cleared his throat, and Urahara barely looked up at him. Annoyed Ichigo took a few steps closer to the desk, and forced a calmer tone. "I know what disappointed means, but just what does it mean in this context?" He held out his paper for him to take._

_Urahara looked up, pen held a loft. "It means that _you_ disappoint. This paper was trash Ichigo, and we both know that you can do better."_

"_I worked hard on this," which wasn't a lie per se._

"_Probably," his teacher conceded, "but to whose standards?" He opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a crimson pen. "You've been taking it easy so long and although your writing has impressed many people, you're not even trying anymore."_

_Ichigo didn't repute the fact and watched as Urahara uncapped the crimson pen, reached over, and plucked his essay out of his hands. "But I'll give it another read through and make serious suggestions per your suggestion." And he began to read._

_Ichigo nodded and stood there, dumbly, hands still held aloft as if the paper was still in his grasp._

_Urahara looked up, an amused glint in his eyes, "You're dismissed."_

_Ichigo knew that he should probably leave, but he voiced his other concern ,"Aren't you going to talk to me about it?"_

_Urahara shook his head and held his pen up, "Benihime and I need time to edit alone if you don't mind."_

_Ichigo nodded, still unsure._

_He was at the door way when he heard Urahara yell after him, "Meet me tomorrow afternoon to discuss this!"_

_Ichigo began to turn around, but Urahara wasn't looking anymore. He was crouched over his desk intently, his pen scribbling across the page._

**xxxxx**

"Why is it," Ichigo began, taking his seat across from his old mentor, "that I feel like this was a set-up?"

Urahara held his fan close to his face. "Define set-up."

Ichigo glared at him, turning to Rukia who was seated beside the shopkeeper.

Her eyes widened innocently, her hands playing with her straw and water. "What?"

"You knew that Urahara wanted to see me. You're the one who dragged me here."

Rukia did her best to stifle a smile behind her cup. "Yes…"

"Rukia…"

"But only because he asked me to!" she protested. She looked at Kisuke imploringly.

"Don't feel that way," Urahara flapped his fan which magically appeared. "Kuchiki mentioned the reunion before she left here this evening and I was only too excited to see my protégé!"

"Protégé!" Ichigo repeated outraged. "You criticized me with everything!"

"But what did that do but only help you?" Yoda asked.

"Whatever."

"And who do you think introduced you to Yoruichi in the first place?"

"He's got a point there Ichigo," Rukia said and Ichigo looked at her disapprovingly.

"Well, I'm here," he sighed. He hunched his shoulders and leaned back. "What did you want to see me about?"

Rukia placed her cup onto the table and rummaged through her purse. With a triumphant smile, she reached in, plopped out his most recent book, and handed it to Kisuke, who thanked her and slid it across the table.

"That," he pointed to the cover. "Is shit."

Gobsmacked, Ichigo picked it up and flipped through. There weren't many, but just with a quick scan, Ichigo could see countless of pages with either a giant question mark or an X written over it. Notes were scribbled in the margins, and Urahara didn't hesitate to be as harsh as he could. "What is all this?" Ichigo asked, choosing to look at the pages rather than at the two people sitting across from him.

"I would think that it was quite obvious." He heard Urahara reply dryly.

Rukia didn't say anything, choosing to look into her cup.

He flipped through more, catching phrases here and there. _Pathetic. Careless. What?! _Then Ichigo closed it, unable to read anymore. "I see you and Benihime had fun," he mustered, placing the book back onto the table, cover side down.

Urahara grinned, wagging the red pen in the air proudly. "Of course, and I should probably thank you. Benihime and I haven't had such exercise since the retirement."

Ichigo eyed the pen evilly. "I still can't believe your pen has a name."

"And I still can't believe," Urahara said, "that one of my students, under the guidance of one of the best editors out there, can publish that." He eyed the paperback on the table resentfully.

Ichigo looked to Rukia for help, and she smiled politely. "This seems like business…" she hesitated.

"Rukia." Ichigo's voice held warning and his eyes demanded her to stay where she was. His hand even edged toward where she was sitting.

"I think I'll go talk to Tessai," she excused, grabbing her coat and purse to make a quick escape.

Ichigo made a motion to grab her, but his hands fell onto the table, empty.

"Same old, same old," he heard Urahara chuckle, and Ichigo looked up to meet his eyes.

"What do you mean by that old man?"

Urahara leaned back onto his chair, waving his fan dismissively. "Nothing, nothing." He nodded as a tiny girl placed two glasses of water in front of them. "Thank you Ururu."

When she left, Ichigo looked at him with a surprised look. "Doesn't she seem a bit young to be working?"

"It's never too young to be working," Urahara replied without missing a beat.

"So this is your life now? Editing published books, running a coffee shop, exploiting young children?"

Urahara shook his head. He was never one to be baited so easily. Taking a sip out of his cup he looked him straight in the eye. "How've you been Ichigo?"

Ichigo shrugged, feeling all the more like a sixteen year old student than ever that or a very bad adult poseur. "Same old, same old. You?" he picked up his water to make a point of being nonchalant.

"Well, I'm not teaching anymore, but I s'pose that you can see that," he gestured around them and Ichigo nodded. "But to get to the point, I want to know how the writing is coming along."

Ichigo shoved the book with his knuckles, still holding his cup. "You tell me."

Urahara looked at that instead of him. "Yoruichi said that you were losing your touch."

"And yet she helped me publish this," Ichigo replied disdainfully. "I'm surprised she didn't send it back with all those marks."

"She's getting pressure by the publisher, when certain writers don't meet their deadlines," he said pointedly, "it eats up her time to edit."

"But it can't be my fault that she missed all that," he said.

"True, but you'd make her job a lot easier if you put more effort into writing."

"I'd say an actual book is effort."

Urahara looked him up and down and laughed. "You've done it alright," Urahara joked.

"Done what?"

"Turned jaded."

"I am not. Jaded." He protested.

"Say what you will Ichigo but denial is just the natural course."

"I am not jaded!"

The entire coffee shop went quiet, and Urahara and Ichigo looked toward the counter, where the only other customer, Rukia, sat, talking to Tessai.

"Look Ichigo." Urahara picked up the book and gestured toward the cover. "Why are you writing something you yourself don't believe in?"

"I do believe in them!"

Urahara shook his. "You did with your first one. But now you're just as manufactured and commercialized as any other paperback in the airport."

"That's a bit harsh coming from you." Ichigo couldn't meet his eyes.

"If you can't hear it from your mentor who can you hear it from?"

"My editor? My publisher?—"

"How about a critic?" Urahara asked then said in a more formal tone. "I believed he called your writing 'shallow, insipid, overworked'?"

Ichigo nodded. "Zangetsu."

"Ahh so you're familiar with this critique?"

"Yes and the critic," he admitted. "He hates basically everything I write."

"What about your first book? He sort of said something nice about that."

"And what do you think?" Ichigo ventured.

Urahara took a deep breath. "I think…that you're faltering."

"Faltering." He repeated, testing the word.

"Where has your sense of guidance gone? Only two years out of school and look at you now!"

"There's nothing wrong with me now."

He leveled a gaze at him. "When's the last time you actually wrote something, and memos don't count."

"I've written plenty." Ichigo hedged.

"Care to let me have a look at it?"

"If it was done," he muttered guiltily.

He shrunk against the back of his chair, feeling uneasy under Urahara gaze. "Writer's block?" he asked.

Ichigo didn't answer.

"Ichigo it's perfectly normal to have it, plenty of people do," Urahara chuckled. "It sort of sounds like you have a different problem when I say it that way."

Ichigo didn't join in.

"Yes, well," he cleared his throat. "It's disappointing to see that someone so gifted and so driven only a few years ago has given up so easily."

"I'm not giving up!"

"Glad to hear it."

Ichigo took another swig of water. "But?"

"But what?"

"There's always a 'but' with you."

Urahara stifled another laugh at the blatant, immature joke that resulted from what Ichigo just said. Instead he looked at him seriously, "But," he emphasized. "When I read this," his finger tapped the top of the book in front of him. "I read filler. It was like reading someone with a lack of confidence, someone who's too scared to take a chance."

Ichigo didn't say anything.

"When you write something Ichigo," Urahara said. "You make sure that you mean it. Make sure that you believe in it, and make sure—" he was cut off by the loud, digitized notes of an old Abba song. Looking up they saw Rukia pick up her cell, and scurry outside. Urahara smiled. "Make sure that you take a risk."

They let that sink in, Ichigo watching Rukia out of the corner of his eye as she paced in front of the glass front of the shop, speaking calmly. Before hanging up she shot him a glance and waved

"So," he said, breaking the silence and turning away from her. "Why tell me all of this now? Couldn't phone?"

"Couldn't you?" he got out of his seat.

Ichigo shook his head. "Fine, fine I get the point. Keep in touch, blah, blah."

"Yes Ichigo," Urahara echoed, walking away, his wooden shoes making distinct thuds onto the linoleum. "Keep in touch, keep at work, and keep on trying."

"What do you think I've been doing all this time if not at least trying?" Ichigo asked bitterly.

Urahara gave another light laugh and looked over his shoulder, lips pursed. "You just might surprise me one day Ichigo."

"I thought I already had." Ichigo muttered, watching him walk away.

Urahara tilted his head as if to consider it. "Yeah but try not to make that the only time," he advised. "Try not to peak too soon."

**xxxxx**

_In a not too distant flashback, Ichigo read the critique from Zangetsu in the _New York Times.

_Even if he had missed it, he received enough envelopes, messages, e-mails, and a voicemail from his supporting editor about it._

"_Ichigo! Have you seen what this critic," he heard the shuffling of a newspaper, "Zangetsu? Said about you? It's really good—bad about you—but the critique itself is really good."_

_Or one from his father. "Ichigo my son! Did you read what Zangetsu said about…?"_

_Yes, Ichigo had heard and read all about it, but he chose to find comfort in the fact that not that many people would read his humiliation in the New York Times…right?_

_Oh hell, he was kidding himself. Picking up the paper he read it again, cringing with each word._

"_Kurosaki's narrative, although thrilling, can only be take at face value. Shallow, insipid, uninspired, overworked, one can only wonder as to whether this Kurosaki is the very same Ichigo Kurosaki who only years before had shown such promise with the literary world with his short stories from the New Yorker and his debut novel _Hollow.

_One can only hope that he is finished with these Bount stories, but if you read the first, _Bount_, then you should probably finish up with_ The Bount Assault_ if only to finish something you've already started." _

**xxxxx**

Turning back to Rukia, he saw that she was sitting at the counter with Tessai, shoulders hunched as she pointed at one pitcher behind the counter.

"How bout that?" he heard her ask cheerfully.

"French Vanilla," Tessai replied after looking over his shoulder.

Rukia looked from an empty cappuccino cup sitting in front of her to the pitcher. "Yeah I'll have that."

Ichigo watched as Tessai took her baby cup, picked up the mini pitcher, and poured it, white liquid coming out.

"How is it?" Tessai asked conversationally, organizing the shelf behind him.

Rukia threw her head back and dumped the entire contents down her throat, looking up she made a tight face. "It's better than the Hazelnut." She answered thickly. "Do you guys just have a plain flavor?"

"You mean milk?"

"Rukia," Ichigo sidled up to her, his face twisted in disgust. "Are you drinking coffee creamer?"

"Hmm?" She raised her eyebrows and licked her lips. She took a huge gulp, probably because of the creamer. "Nice meeting?"

"Very nice."

"Good."

He shrugged and pulled up a stool beside her. "But I probably could've done without it." He gripped the edge of the counter and looked from her to the pile of cappuccino cups in front of her.

She smacked her lips sympathetically. "That bad?"

"The truth usually hurts."

He felt her cold fingers pat his hand lightly. "Tessai? Could I get a hazelnut?" she looked at him pityingly. "Make it a double." Tessai slid a cup toward him and he caught it, unsure whether he should drink it or not.

About half an hour later, Ichigo found himself moved back to the table, his head tilted back, only held by his shoulders and neck, and a small cappuccino cup in his hands.

"Can I just say," Ichigo choked up. "That this has to be one of the grossest things I've ever drunk?"

"Creamer shots," Rukia explained, her voice thick, "are a lot harder to handle." She toasted on her own before shooting another.

"True," Ichigo agreed, pushing the empty ceramic cup away from him. He looked at the stacks accumulated around him. He hadn't realized that they had drunk so many.

"But I prefer them over any other form of shots," Rukia pointed out, pouring herself another one out of the French Vanilla, which she had proclaimed to be hers only.

Ichigo nodded along. "Like chicken pox?"

"Flu?"

"Polio?" He slid the cup from one hand to the other like an air hockey puck.

"Are there shots for polio?" She smacked her lips.

The cup stopped. "Yes?"

Both of them took the time to think about this.

And Ichigo, being either under the influence of the placebo effect from these so called 'shots' or his talk with Urahara had to break it. "Rukia?"

"Hmmm?" she chirped.

He took another creamer shot. "Why did you agree to leave with me tonight?"

She sobered a little, playing with one of the thin coffee stirrers she had been using as a straw.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to." He said, half hoping that she'd take that way out and half hoping that she wouldn't.

Disappointed, he watched her shake her head then add, "We haven't seen each other in a while."

He didn't reply immediately before realizing that it was his turn to rally a comment. "Yeah…"

Rukia poured herself another, "So," she began conversationally, "why did you? Ask me that is."

Ichigo shrugged, "We haven't seen each other in a while."

Rukia toasted to that and took another shot. She winced at the sweetness of it and picked up her water. "So…"

"Are y—"

Both of them stopped short once they heard the other speak.

"You first," Ichigo prompted.

"No. Go ahead. It's the least that you can have seeing as you bought me this," she shook her now empty cup of water jokingly.

He shook his head. "I was just trying to be a gentleman…"

"Just finish your question Kurosaki."

"Ladies first Kuchiki." He countered.

Rukia smirked. "So you've been writing?" she relented.

Ichigo nodded. "So, you travel the world and give them money?" He joked.

"It's a fellowship," Rukia explained, carving out crescents into the cup with her nail. "We have a round of applications every year, and I go through everything and pick people we will sponsor for a year."

"Then you go globe surfing to find them?" He asked.

She rocked her head from side to side, considering the matter. "Yes and no. We narrow it to five people that I visit to meet them and see their work in person, then we narrow that to three who actually get the grants. Byakuya hates it though," she added.

"Is he the one funding this?"

"Eh…technically?"

"I take that as a yes?"

"Yes and no actually," Ichigo noted that she swept her hands across her forehead as if to push away her hair a habit that reminded him of the old Rukia. "I did come into money when I graduated high school, enough to actually get this thing going."

"And…?"

Rukia shrugged. "But Byakuya doesn't want me squandering my own inheritance on other people."

"How philanthropic of him."

"No. It's really nice, and I do see what he means. I mean, I can't just live on this alone."

"But you are," Ichigo pointed out.

"Not really. Byakuya agrees to invest half if I invest half."

"And your money supply never ran out?"

"I knew you should've gone first."

"Answer the question Kuchiki."

She sighed, preparing to go into a thorough explanation. "The Fellowship works this way. I give the grant out and we strike a deal. We try to do an exhibition by the end of either a year or six months and we find new investors for them and I find donations." She began to piece the foam rim off. "People are always trying to help when a Kuchiki is involved."

"Sounds business like."

"Yeah well—why are you making that face?"

Ichigo could only smile a reply. How was it possible that she could read him so well after all these years? "What face?"

"The one where you want to say something more."

"I'm not."

She raised her eyebrows dubiously. "Ichigo, I've been on the receiving end of those faces. I think I'd know what it looks like."

"We haven't seen each other in years. This could be a completely different face by now."

"True, but whose fault is that exactly?"

Ichigo winced a bit at that. "Ouch."

"Sorry."

"No—no it's fine. I could've…"

"No. That was rude. You were being all nice and I just…"

"No it's fine. I just—" He faltered and they receded into total silence.

He made another motion to say something more but caught himself.

"Yes?" Rukia asked before he could edit the question already formulating his mind.

"What do you do then Rukia?" he asked.

Her lips were pursed as she listened. "What do you mean? I'm in charge of the fellowship."

"Yeah, I mean I get that, and it's great that you do that," he continued. "But what have you done for yourself exactly?"

Rukia paused, "I work. This is what I'm doing for myself." She gestured toward an invisible fellowship empire on the table.

"I see." Ichigo found himself saying. There just was a niggling feeling in him as he heard her explain all of this.

A fellowship for the arts by an artist.

Ichigo remembered how the old Rukia made horrible doodles in all her notes. How she liked to draw rabbits and how she carried markers with her all the time. She even managed to have a sketchbook with her wherever she went, and produced it in the most unusual times.

When she had the time (and even when she didn't) she'd buy canvas and paints, oils and chalk and spend entire afternoons holed up at the Kuchiki household, not letting anyone bother her, until she came out of the room for a break or nourishment, her arms decorated with paint and charcoal.

She kept most of her work a secret, only showing him and her other friends the occasional piece, and when he did see it, he was always amazed by them. Rukia never stuck to one medium, preferring a mix and match on the paper, like a watercolor wash with charcoal or oil pastels with crayons. Looking at her work, Ichigo would see sharp, bold bravura lines and harsh shading or paint splattered across for color and interest. It was unlike anything else he's seen, even though he knew that he wasn't an art connoisseur, and knew that she was going to be one of those rare artists who could make a stable income out of it.

She even went to art school for college, secretly telling him that she only wanted to and hoped to only paint for a living, so finding out that she had turned her love of a craft into a selfless business, which on paper sounds much better than he saw, sent alarms in his direction.

Rukia was selfless and supporting, but where was that selfless support for her when she could use it?

The ticking of the clock woke made him realize that they were both consumed in their own thoughts and he peered at her cautiously.

"This." He looked up. "Is awkward," Rukia finished lamely.

Ichigo hid his smirk behind his hand. "I'm pretty sure that that doesn't make this any less awkward."

Rukia shrugged. "Just putting it out there."

He took a sip of from his cup before realizing that it was pure creamer, wincing he wiped his mouth. "Uh-huh."

"Cards on the table?" Rukia asked following another beat of silence.

Ichigo looked up again. "Cards on the table." He repeated.

Rukia twisted her mouth uncertainly. "You're an ass Kurosaki."

"Gee thanks Kuchiki."

Her hand reached forward and rested on his lightly. "But I've missed you."

**xxxxx**

Text Message  
Fr: K. Asano  
To: I. Kurosaki  
WHERE DA HELL R U?!?!

Text Message  
Fr: T. Arisawa  
To: I. Kurosaki  
Keigo's bugging me. Where'd u 2 go?

Text Message  
Fr: R. Abarai  
To: R. Kuchiki  
U sed u weren't going! Wut the hell changed?

Text Message  
Fr: T. Arisawa  
To: O. Inoue-Ishida  
Fine. You wer rite. Saw them leave 2gether.

Text Message Reply  
Fr: O. Inoue-Ishida  
To: T. Arisawa  
Told u! Now u hav 2 be my taste tester! :D

Voice Mail reply  
Fr: Rukia  
To: Renji  
"I got your text, and I'll be there when I work out a few things…tell Byakuya that I'm on my way if he asks…oh and I'm bringing a friend, hope that's okay…"

**xxxxx**

_**A/N:**__ This was a problem chapter to write, so that's why it took so long. I can only apologize for the wait and promise actual Ichigo and Rukia interaction in the next one! _

_Oh and I've named this chapter after a song from The Wombats which helped in the forming of this._


	4. Fluorescent Adolescent

**Chapter Four: Fluorescent Adolescent**

_This wasn't the first time that Ichigo opened his door to see the petite girl standing on his doorstep._

_In fact, since their first encounter on this very spot on that fateful day, he grew accustomed to the random appearances of the tiny Kuchiki at his house. Even looked forward to it on some occasions, but today there was an odd giddiness about her. From her expression to her stance, she exuded an odd confidence, and just one look of her hopeful, happy-go-lucky expression told him that the next words out of her mouth were going to be bad. He just knew it._

_Ichigo immediately began to push the door back closed. "No."_

_Rukia's violet eyes widened and she reacted quickly, stopping the door with her toe. "No? You don't even know why I'm here!"_

_Ichigo was too much of a gentleman to slam her foot, so he held the door in place. "I know that if you used the front door it can't be anything good."_

"_Can't a girl just visit her friend over the weekend?" She asked sweetly…too sweetly if Ichigo was to judge._

_His eyes narrowed as he studied her up and down. "I guess…"_

_She smiled, bringing her hands from behind her, clasping a picnic basket between them._

_A question was already formed in his eyes, and when he looked at her, she didn't shrink away like he thought she would. Instead, she leveled a gaze at him and raised her eyebrows. "Don't say no." she said seriously._

_A pucker emerged between his eyebrows and he leaned on the door frame. Using his height to intimidate, he loomed over her. "How do you know that I'm going to say 'no'?" Ichigo demanded._

"_It's your face," she defended, shifting her weight to carry the basket properly. "You've already decided and you don't even know what I'm going to ask!"_

"_I am not!"_

"_You are so!"_

"_Quit analyzing me and get it over with! What's in that basket?" he made a grab for it, but Rukia took a step back. Damn small people and their quick reflexes._

_She clutched the handle tighter with both hands, and Ichigo could see her knuckles turning white under the weight. If he were to judge, a picnic meal was definitely not inside. "That's incredibly rude Ichigo," she reprimanded._

"_Snob."_

"_Philistine." She scoffed._

"_Hey you came to my house, remember?" He cut off._

_She resigned herself to a sigh and looked at him, her violet eyes piercing._

"_Now who's making weird faces?"_

_She groaned. "Fine," she relented, lifting the lid slowly. Ichigo leaned towards her, curiosity brimming, then it snapped shot. Preparing a string of curses, he rubbed his nose, but stopped as he looked up to see Rukia's dead-serious face. "But you have to promise not to overreact." She said._

"_How the hell do I overreact?" he demanded._

"_You always overreact!"_

"_Says the midget yelling at me!"_

"_For goodness—" she rattled her head. "Ichigo just promise." He could tell that it was taking great effort on her part not to drop the basket and pummel him._

"_Fine, fine." Then in a flatter, duller voice matched with an eye roll. "I promise."_

"_Fine," she agreed reluctantly. "A little less attitude would have been better…" she added as an aside._

"_Rukia." He warned._

"_Okay!" She lifted up the basket. "Ichigo," she announced. "I want you to meet," the lid began to lift, and as Rukia began to throw back the wicker cover, Ichigo came face to face with one of the ugliest animals he had ever come eyes to—oh yuck! Was that one eye?_

"_Rukia! What the hell is that thing?" he asked in horror, pointing obviously._

_She looked offended, and plucked it out of the basket. He watched as his friend put herself willingly in danger, cuddling the thing closer to her person as it snuggled deeper into her chest._

_He pointed at the creature that the Gods forgot. "Rukia! Stop! We don't know what it is!"_

"_Ssssh," and she cradled it closer to her, the distinct hum of purring eliciting from it. "How can you be so cruel Ichigo? It's obviously a cat." And he watched in horror as that _thing_ cuddled and purred against her shoulder, its flat face rubbing against the collar of her sweater._

"_That, Rukia," he was almost sad to tell her, "is not a cat."_

_She and the thing glared at him. Well, the thing's one eye did._

"_Fine. Yes, I admit that half of it is possibly a cat, but the other half can be anything," he looked from the one eye to the mangy orange hair. "Like if a cat had sex with a blender."_

_She glared at him, and propped the creature onto her hip like a baby. It continued to purr happily, its paws laid against her chest more firmly. "Really Ichigo think what you must look to him."_

"_That depends from which side of the face he's looking with, the one with the eye or the one without--ouch!" he rubbed his stinging shoulder, "Fuck Rukia!"_

_Rukia lifted her hand again threateningly. "He has two eyes! One just has an infection!" She gestured to the "eye," which on closer inspection showed some promise of ocular use._

"_Alright, alright." He held his palms out in surrender. "He looks like what a cat _might_ look like?" he tried._

_She nodded running her chin across the top of the "feline's" head. "I'm glad you think so."_

_He watched as the fluffy thing swatted at her chest playfully. It seemed to do that a lot, like it was feeling her up or something. "Why is that?"_

_Rukia looked up from playing with it. "Because, I need you to take care of him."_

"_Hell no!"_

"_But why?"_

"_Because—" I can't have one of God's mistakes walking around here. "I don't think my dad'll like it."_

"_And since when were you afraid of angering your dad?"_

"'_Hey!" he pointed at his chest with his thumb. "I'm an excellent son!"_

"_And a good friend" she sing-sung, holding the "cat" up to his face. It meowed woefully._

_He backed away. "Watch it! It might have rabies or something!"_

"_It doesn't. I've already taken it to the vet and everything." She told him, bringing it back to her chest. "It's a Persian."_

"_When did you get it and have time to go to the vet?"_

"_It doesn't matter." She dismissed, tickling its belly. "I'll feed it and take care of it, but I need it to stay here with you."_

"_You can do all of that at your own house."_

"_Not with Byakuya."_

"_Then give it to the shelter."_

"_Ichigo! I saved it from the shelter! They were going to K-I-L-L him!" He gave her a look, and she went on to explain. "I don't want him to hear me."_

"_Well why not give it to Kaien?"_

"_Can't." She stated. "If I ask him to house a cat while I nurse and take care of it, it'll be like we're married or something."_

"_That's a bit presumptuous," Ichigo said. "And if you ever produce a child like that then I'd think you committed some sort of sin in your past life." He murmured, eyeing it warily._

_Her glare told him that she heard that last comment. "Besides," she went on, her voice building up, "you have to help me _best friend_!" with an emphasis on the last two words._

"_We are not best friends right now!"_

_She looked at him innocently, anime-like. "Why not?"_

"_Because it's clearly an exploitation of your rights!"_

"_How so? This is the type of thing friends do!" she gestured emphatically. "You know! I get us into the shenanigan and you help me out?"_

"_Why does that sound like the beginning of all sitcoms?"_

"_Ichigo, if you do this one thing, you wouldn't just be doing me a favor, you'd be doing a life a favor!" she held the cat up to his face by the armpits and Ichigo made eyes-to-eye contact with the mangy beast. It hissed threateningly._

"_I think I'd be doing it a favor if we put it to sleep." He murmured, looking at the knots and tufts of unmanageable ginger fur._

"_Shhsssh!" Rukia threatened, clutching its tiny skull close. "He can hear you!"_

"_Hear me?" Ichigo crouched slightly to become eye-level with the beast. "Does it have ears?"_

"_Of course it does," she snapped, then held it aloft and looked at it. "One…at least…" She ran her hand over where the other one would be. "See!" she announced, revealing the other ear from behind a knotty tuft of hair. The cat meowed again and looked at Ichigo, marble eye looking expectant._

_If you looked at in a certain way, it was…sort of…maybe…acceptable. It looked like a lion, sort of. A lion with a mane that overran its body._

"_Oh come on Ichigo!" the petite girl in front of him wheedled. "It's not that big of a deal."_

"_Not that—not that big of a deal? Rukia! It's a live animal!"_

"_Well, yes," she admitted reluctantly. "But he was just left there Ichigo! He was left there to DIE!" He chose not to point out that Rukia was saying all of this in front of the cat._

_For a minute, Ichigo looked doubtful at the creature._

"_And it's domesticated! You don't have to do much!" she pitched. Ichigo half expected her to knock down the price and throw in a few extra cats if he agreed in the next five minutes._

"_I don't think domesticated is what that cat went through." He remarked, arms crossed over his chest. He studied the tiny paw planting itself on Rukia's arm. "I can't Rukia, it's out of the question! I can't and won't—"_

"_Please?" That came as a shock. _

_He studied her closely, her mouth primly put up in a small smile. It was hard to believe that she was capable of violence at that moment._

"_Ichigo, please," she repeated. It was such a small, polite sound, and that in itself was unusual for her. _

_Looking at her again, he couldn't get past the look her eyes gave him as she held the ugly beast. Because no matter what the expression, Ichigo was no match for those eyes, even on a daily basis. Just look at the amount of damn juice boxes he punctured for her!_

_He sighed in defeat. "Fine," he relented, "But you owe me. Big."_

_A smile broke out across her face, her eyes beaming at him in a rewarding manner. "Of course!"_

"_I mean, elephant big, tyrannosaurus rex big, your ego big—ah! I'm doing you a favor midget! Stop kicking me!"_

_Rukia placed her foot down, "Are you finished?"_

_Ichigo stopped himself from checking his shin for a bruise. "Yeah I think I am."_

"_Good," she handed him the feline carelessly and turned around to pick up a plastic box from behind her. "Because you need to tell me where I can put the litter box."_

_He looked around her to see a few bags from the pet store at her feet. "You already brought the stuff as if you knew I'd say yes!"_

_She gave him a look that asked "And your point is?" and continued to walk past him, shoving the door open with her hip and breezily entering the Kurosaki household. Looking over at Ichigo and the cat, she gestured toward the open space, "Welcome to your new home Kon!"_

_Surprisingly, his family had no problems with the new addition to the family. Karin and Yuzu always wanted a pet, and his father was always happy to see Rukia everyday when she came to visit it. The damn thing only liked her, and at any opportunity would snuggle onto her chest like a perv. But it would wake Ichigo up and annoy him at the early hours of the morning to be fed._

_He had to bear through it though, because that, according to Rukia, was what best friends were for._

**xxxxx**

The span of twelve and a half inches in the form of a café table, six years apart, and two entirely different lives, separated them at this moment.

But, here they were. Sitting across from one another at Urahara's like none of that had any effect on them. "So, how's New York?" Rukia asked, lips on the brink of taking a sip.

Ichigo gave a light chuckle, placing his own cup down. "Are you really asking me about New York?"

The look on her face told him that she really was.

"I mean," he explained, "don't you travel for a living?"

The lights from a passing car invaded through the shop's windows and flickered over her face momentarily, illuminating it in a way akin to a spot light before passing on completely. She reddened either out of modesty or genuine embarrassment, and although they weren't arguing, Ichigo considered himself winning at this conversation thing.

They were talking.

They were actually having a conversation that consisted of actual topics, rather than the shallow pleasantries that they were exchanging before; and the mist and fog lifted in a magnificent metaphor of their stifled awkwardness. The air cleared between them.

He waited as she drank.

Although—there was always that exception, especially with Ichigo—it was like they were doing a dance

that was carefully choreographed to avoid slipping, falling into dangerous territory. And despite the fact that they both appeared candid, Ichigo noticed that they were avoiding key subjects of discussion and evaluation. Missteps toward them were sidestepped gracefully or ignored completely.

He was just too much of a gentleman to force her to—oh screw it. He didn't want to say anything because he didn't want this rapport to die because of him.

He knew that if he brought up the..._incident_—what did Shinji call it back in New York? A clusterfuck version of the _Gift of the Magi_?—that conversation would die on the spot, and he was enjoying himself too much to let that happen.

Rukia coughed, thought for a moment, then, "Found any new religions lately?"

Right. So...t_echnically_, they were still being polite and shallow to one another, _but_ they were still talking.

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "New York's fine. Lots of hustle and bustle."

That had to be a plus, right?

"Ahh yes," he heard Rukia say and for a minute he thought that she was agreeing with him. Then she continued, "the city of…well of…"

"Yes?" he prompted, more aware of the conversation at hand.

"…apples?" she tried.

"Yes, Rukia-World-Class-Traveler," Ichigo said, "New York is the city of apples."

"Sarcasm doesn't become you Ichigo."

Her comment hung in the air, and neither of them knew how to carry on. Awkward loomed over them yet again, and Rukia coughed, either out of politeness or to fill the ensuing silence.

"How's…" he stopped to think for a moment, "the world? Where are you based actually?"

She shrugged, taking another sip from her water. "Between London and here mainly."

"_You_ live in Karakura?" He asked, incredulous, then added as he saw her offended expression, "I didn't know that."

"Yeah, well I have a _place_ here but the actual living in it part is a work in progress." She tapped her fingers onto the faux wood table top before smiling brightly. "How's the writing?

Ichigo looked at her for a minute, deciding whether to pry on her first comment or accept the break-neck topic turn.

"Work in progress." Ichigo automatically replied, carving out his foam cup in turn.

It was a comment made to forestall any prying and to mock her own previous answer, but either Rukia wouldn't let it go or she refused to accept it. "Oh. That bad?" Refused to accept it more likely.

Ichigo was never one to fish for pity. "You could say that." He studied her carefully, "Didn't you hear everything Urahara just said?"

"Was I supposed to?" she asked. Her tone gave way to nothing.

"No…" ducking his head back down. "I guess not."

Rukia didn't know what to say to that, and another gravity weighing pause ensued. Ichigo continued to tear off the foam bits intently and Rukia's manicured nails tapped the table. Neither of them looking at one another as the silence weighed on them heavily.

Who knew that it could be so loud?

"Okay," she lifted her palms up in defeat. A tendril of hair escaped onto her forehead as she moved. "We have got to stop doing that Ichigo."

He finally stopped piecing the Styrofoam to look at her. "Do what?"

"The long pauses," she explained. "The empty silence?" Ichigo continued to look blank. "Isn't it bothering you?" she asked.

"No…" he thought aloud. "I can't say that it is."

"Really?" Rukia asked doubtfully. She held his gaze and sat back against the chair, crossing her arms across her chest. She didn't say anything, just continued to stare straight into his amber eyes, stretching the silence to damn right unbearable, until he blinked.

"Okay," he admitted, blinking again. "I lied."

Rukia smirked triumphantly. "Why! Whatever do you mean?" Another wisp of hair escaped near her ear.

"Shut-up."

"Why are you looking at me? I'm not killing the conversation!"

"Well I'm not either!"

Rukia didn't repute at first, allowing his last speech to dissolve in the air between them.

Beat.

"That was totally you Kurosaki."

"Nu-uh." He shook his head. "I was just defending myself on that last score. It was you_ technically_."

"You're a writer!" she pointed out. "Shouldn't you be waxing poetic or making really witty repartee?"

"Well you're an artist," he countered, noticing the slight cringe over her expression as he said it. "What's the difference?"

But her voice didn't give any hint of her previous expression, "Yeah—AHEM—but you should be a freakin' machine with the words right now!"

"I'm kinda on a break at the moment," he admitted.

"Oh?" she asked, glowing with interest. "What sort of break?"

"A mental one," he deflected.

Cue the crickets. Another car passed over their window.

"Ichigo?" Her voice was a shock to the previous stillness. "Do you call this mental break writer's block?" she asked as if asking a child.

A pucker emerged between his brows. "It's almost taboo to say it."

"Well," she tackled, holding her cup between her two hands. "'How far along are you?"

"Rukia…" he groaned.

"No! I'm really interested." He heard her say animatedly. "How far along are you?"

It sounded like she was asking him about a pregnancy. "…"

"Excuse me?" she taunted lightly, cupping the shell of her ear. "You forgot to actually use your voice."

"…"

"A little louder? You know, for the non-canine listeners." She leaned toward him, palms face down on the table.

"I've got squat! Happy?" he scowled as she smiled knowingly. "And they're getting very testy because I've sent them an outline months ago." He added more for his own benefit than her own. He thought back to the several threatening e-mails sitting in his computer unanswered.

"Well..." she began, and he watched as she slowly almost uncomfortably finished. "-ahem—art takes time."

He shook his head pityingly at her. "You're really naïve sometimes Rukia."

"What?" a familiar flicker of defense lit her eyes but was gone almost immediately.

He grimaced, setting his story before explaining. "I sent them that outline because they gave me a deposit for my next book. I just wanted them to back off."

"Oh," she chewed the inside of her cheek, putting the pieces together. "And you spent all of it?"

Stupid student loans. "A good amount." Stupid new Mac. "More or less." Stupid lending Shinji money every time he asks for some.

"Then you should be glad that I only ordered water," she reminded.

"Then what about the creamers?"

"Look I'll pay for—"

"I'm not broke, Rukia."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

He watched her toy with her hands, steepling them in thought. "Well," she began after another beat of silence, "what about the outline? You must've—"

"Written it after a drunk night with Shinji?" he finished, thinking back to varying shots they took at the bar before getting kicked out.

"Ahh…I see…and anything to do with him has got to be—"

"—jackassinine?" Ichigo supplied.

"Um…not what I was going to say but sure?"

"And I'm pretty sure he wrote some of it," he concluded, reflecting over the entire drunken episode. It was like a bad math problem. Ichigo plus whisky plus Guinness plus Shinji made…well bad life choices it turns out.

"Well, two heads are better—"

He stopped her. "I'm pretty sure Shinji doesn't count in that department."

She chewed the inside of her cheek again. "What I remember from Shinji was that he wrote for some magazine?"

Ichigo nodded. "He's actually the editor," he explained. "I've been writing reviews for them during this—"

"—writer's block?"

"Yeah," he winced slightly. Then again, who was he to judge the work of others when he was at a standstill? "Vaizard," he recalled, "Online blog turned publication." He stopped. "But, when did you—?"

Her lips pursed into a wane smile. "You don't remember do you?"

He looked sheepish. "Should I?"

"No," then more confidently. "No, it's fine." Her forearm came up from the table and she rested her chin in her cupped palm, looking through the window to the outside.

"Rukia." It didn't come out as a question for her to continue but as a plea for her to explain. Curiosity brimming.

She tore her eyes away and looked straight at him. They stared each other down before Rukia broke. "Ichigo—ahem—"

"Are you alright?"

"Hmm?" she stopped immediately. Very deer-in-headlights.

"You keep clearing your throat," he pointed out. "Very strongly too."

"Oh," he watched as her cheeks tinged pink. "Well—ahem. It's probably all the strain from…um… traveling."

"Right."

"Anyways."

"Yes?"

"I met Shinji on a trip to New York…" she piped up hurriedly, "um…I thought that maybe he would've told you or something."

Ichigo studied her, waiting for more of a story. "No."

"What?"

"He never told me." You should though.

"Oh, well it was really random." Or not.

Ichigo waited for her to elaborate more, but she didn't. "So how's Renji?" he tactically asked to avoid another growing silence.

"Fine," she assured him, still rankled over the previous interrogation. "Or, well, since I saw him last he was fine."

"When was last?" Ichigo asked patiently.

"Today? Yesterday?" she replied, giving the now usual nonanswer. "The time zones are kind of throwing me off. When did you get here?"

He noted this second subject change. "Two weeks ago," he replied, doing his best to hide his annoyance. He rested his forearms on the table, making a mess out of the remnants of what used to be his cup. Large foam flakes drifted between his fingers and onto the table top. He just wasn't going to let her off that easily. "I thought that you two would see more of each other?"

She picked up her cup, crossing her legs to sit against the chair again. It reminded Ichigo of the countless of meetings he had with prospective editors in the past. One sitting at the table in business ease while he sat across floundering. "He's more here and I'm more there," she explained without explaining, gesturing with her head to where 'there' actually was.

"Right..." He dragged his arms back toward him, matching her seated pose. "He works for Byakuya still?"

She swirled her drink around. "Yeah."

Short. "And?" he prompted.

"And what?" she repeated, confused. "I've answered your question."

He sagged, dropping his leg from its crisscrossed position. "You're not really good at this."

"What?" Another car passed, making the smooth skin of her face yellow, before passing.

"Oh come on Rukia!" he calmed as he saw her shock. "Conversations take two parties, and I'm drowning enough as is."

He watched as her eyes fell and rove over the table like she was reading a book. Guilt clearly written over her features.

"Rukia?"

She looked up, briefly meeting his own eyes before dropping to mutter an apology.

"No. It's fine," he exhaled, he brushed off his lap, readying the end of this meeting. This clearly poorly executed meeting.

She didn't say anything else.

"Maybe it's best if I—" He began to rise from his chair, turning to pick up his suit jacket slung over the neighboring table.

She stopped him. Her small hand reaching out and tightening around his fingers. "Don't be an idiot." He looked down at the delicate digits wound around his own. "I brought you here and everything. I just…" she stopped to search for the right words. "…need to make more of an effort."

Ichigo looked over her shoulder uncertainly, then back to her desperate face.

"So please," she tugged his arm. Her eyes looking right at him. He always did whatever those damn things asked him to. "Stay."

Without another word, he gestured to Tessai for a new drink and took up his seat.

"So," Rukia began, leaning forward, creating the universal body language's definition of interest. "Where were we?"

Ichigo smirked, watching her finger idly drum on the table top, his hand only a few inches away. Where, exactly, were they?

**xxxxx**

_The heat was unavoidable. The school was doing its best to relieve them of the pressure of the outer elements by way of the AC, while simultaneously adding its own in the form of Spring semester finals. It was the marking for the end of their first year of high school, and the beginning of summer, as the heat reminded them._

_And despite the inhumanity as Keigo, Tatsuki, and even Uryuu protested, the class was outside, forced to battle said heat while—and this was the clincher—exercising! Because, as the coach put it, physical education still remained a required class, and because so they had to move their—_

"_If I wanted more physical education," Keigo joked to Mizuiro. "I would've stayed home." He raised his eyebrows at his own suggestiveness and Mizuiro shook his head, fleeing past._

"_I don't think we're up for putting physical education in your _hand_," Tatsuki said, slapping the back of his head as she and Orihime sprinted gracefully by._

_Keigo made an insensible cry and chased after them, enjoying the view from behind Orihime until he fell over a tired Uryuu momentarily sitting on the rubber track to catch his breath._

"_Keigo! Stop joking around!" Coach yelled from the sidelines._

"_More like jackin—" Tatsuki rejoined, before shutting up as she ran past the glaring coach._

_The students flinched as the coach whistled yet again, and Rukia could hear the tired groans of her classmates as they ran another lap around the oval track. "Move! Move! MOVE!" he ordered._

_Extremely hot climate? never-ending rotation with other sweaty, pathetic souls? Inescapable judgment? Who knew that high school was literally hell?_

_But Rukia chose not to take part in it today, the heat and her own self not feeling up to the strain. Instead, she sat hidden in the shade of the huge oak tree, knees curled up to her chest and chin resting on top of them, her back slightly resting on the scratchy bark behind her. _

_The pony tail she had tied up was slowly, sliding down the nape of her neck, allowing loose strands of hair to fall onto her wet face. Despite the copious amount of leaves above her, she wasn't spared from the heat. Loose blades of grass stuck to her sweaty thighs and knee caps. She tugged at her gym shorts as she pulled her legs against her tighter, her mind deep in thought in not trying to be deep in thought. Thinking was giving her a headache right now, and she very much wanted to stop thinking._

_But this was it. It was all done._

_She closed her eyes in a last-ditch attempt to clear her head, and she flinched as she heard someone approach, cursing them all the way._

_Opening her eyes, she listened to the pitfalls of sneakered feet and turned her head to see a mop of bright orange hair as it approached her, fast at first then warily as it came closer. The scowling face softened just a bit as it noticed the expression in her eyes._

_Ichigo took the spot of grass in front of her, panting as he finished the mile she was supposed to be running right now. She looked over his shoulder and saw that her other classmates were leaving the track for water and the nearest available shade._

"_Coach told all of us about your bout of cramps," Ichigo informed her, as he plopped his ass onto the ground, his legs stretched before him. Immediately, bits of grass began to cling to his legs._

_She watched him charily, studying the sheen of sweat on his forehead and neck, how he scowled as he looked from her to the ground in forced casualness. He leaned back on his arms as if he was going to do a crab walk. "Just in case any awkward talk comes up." He finished._

_Rukia nodded, and hugged one leg closer while pulling out tufts of grass with the other, tossing it back to the earth. Either her previous acting job was really good or Coach misread her indifferent mood for actual PMS._

"_But I had a feeling they weren't real." There was a hint of concern in his voice, a hope that she would reply, which she ignored._

_Rukia quickly turtled back behind her knees, wrapping her arms around legs._

"_Rukia," she heard him snap. "You're not seriously going to mope are you?"_

_Rukia didn't dignify that with an answer, but she could feel the weight of his scowl and did her best to ignore it, returning to picking out grass as before._

"_You're way better than this, I know you are." He continued, and she knew that he could see the tear stains on her face and the snot on her t-shirt sleeve and was glad he didn't say anything. She looked back at the grass._

_Rukia plucked out a nearby dandelion, tossing it aside as the fluffy seeds began to fall off from the disturbance. As a child, she used to try to catch them; making wishes on each captured fuzz…_

"_And here you are acting like some—" Ichigo made some repressed gurgle before sighing exasperatedly. She heard him rock towards her in response and knew that he was palming his forehead in exasperation. "You're acting like a girl."_

_It was bait, using the 'girl' card, but surprisingly Rukia continued to be mute. Her hand sought more grass and she tugged it for comfort. She was starting to like the searing sound of the roots ripping out of the dirt._

"_I don't understand you," he went on more calmly. "You two argued all the time, you even complained about him more than once, and yet here you are!" He threw his hands to gesture towards her. "Heartbroken over some guy who broke up with you over the phone!"_

_She flinched at the comment. The logic was there. Ichigo had an aggravating knack to point that out to her, but Rukia couldn't understand it. There were so many things wrong about how it ended and yet she flinched at the memory of that phone call and its contents. Was she really that pathetic now? Was she going to let this relationship, or lack thereof, affect her so forcefully? It was already embarrassing to have Ichigo see her like this._

_She poked her head up and glared, temporarily awake at his last comment. "You're supposed to say something comforting fool." She said, so calmly that Ichigo was taken aback by a minute._

_She heard him exhale, loudly, as he brought his legs under him and scooted towards her, so he was sitting right in front of her. "He's not worth it," he said seriously. Rukia's eyes softened and the tears in her eyes made another effort of escape. She wasn't doing the Kuchiki name very proud at the moment._

_Then again, she's been ignoring her Kuchiki sensibilities since that stupid phone call last night and then when she found herself wandering into Ichigo's window right afterwards, tearstained but stoic. He beat the story out of her in an uncharacteristic bit of sensitivity, and she told him, her voice cracking until she fell asleep next to him on his bed._

_She woke up in his closet, because of how Isshin would come in for violent wake-up calls, or so Ichigo told her. In her moody state, she doubted she'd feel it._

"_You're better off without him anyway," Ichigo's voice said bringing her back to the moment._

_She looked at her feet. Her hand now toying with the aglet on her shoelace. "Thanks."_

_Ichigo grunted. He ducked to peer into her face, his amber eyes studying her violet puffy ones. "You're not going to go all van Gogh on me, are you?" He flicked her right ear playfully._

"_It was the left one," she heard herself reply automatically and she swatted his hand away as he made a pass at the correct lobe._

_Ichigo politely turned in the other direction as another stray tear escaped and she quickly rubbed her face onto her sleeved shoulder. "Besides, he's not the last boy in the world," he reasoned._

"_I know," she whispered. She tugged her shoelace apart and whirled it around her finger, watching as her skin purpled. Rukia sucked in a sob wanting to escape. "But I can't help it," she said brokenly, resting her forehead onto her knees, letting the tension around her finger go. Another rebellious tear escaped and she felt it run down her cheek, dripping onto her leg, mingling with the sweat and grass._

_She thought she was out of these. Tears. What would her brother say to these tears over a mere boy?_

_She felt a slight pressure of weight on the toe of her high top and she looked up, over her knee caps to meet Ichigo's eyes as one of his hands rested comfortingly on her sneakered foot, warm and reassuring. "I know."_

_Rukia attempted a grateful smile and before she knew it, the pressure was gone. Instead he was standing up, patting his ass for dirt, then offering her a hand._

"_We better get going anyway," he said, inspecting his bum and thighs, "Coach'll probably make you stay later to finish up."_

_Rukia nodded solemnly but didn't make a motion to stand._

_He sighed, "Rukia, come on," he jerked his hand forward. She didn't react at first, and Ichigo's short temper got the better of him. "I swear I'm gonna kick your ass, then his if you keep this up." He said in all seriousness, his face scowling at her in the usual manner. And for the first time that day, she allowed herself to smile. Albeit, a small one. _

_Taking the bottom of her shirt she wiped her tearstained, sweaty face and forced herself to take a deep breath. Ichigo leaned further down, waving his hand in front of her face, and she studied it for a minute before accepting it._

_Clasping her fingers around his, she felt him do the same as he pulled her up to her feet._

"_Okay?" he asked, leading her back to the track for the next round of laps._

_She gave a curt nod as she followed behind, tightening her hold in his palm in response._

"_Hopefully we won't die from heat exhaustion," Uryuu piped up, appearing out of nowhere and joining their pace toward the track. He pulled his sticky shirt away from his chest._

_Ichigo laughed, and to Rukia's surprise, didn't let go of her hand. Instead, he squeezed it tighter and she reciprocated, because in the tumult and drama of high school hell, it was always best to have a helping hand guide you._

_Or a foot to kick said ass of ex boyfriends._

**xxxxx**

_Rukia adjusted the skirt of her school uniform, amazed at the contradiction of short hem lengths to uniform policy. Tugging her skirt lower meant tugging her shirt and jacket lower, which meant she needed to retie the damn red bow again or it will choke her, all the while raising her skirt ever so little with her efforts. The entire process was moot._

_She slammed her locker and carefully picked up her backpack resting on the floor. Tossing the required texts into it, she turned in time to see a very angry strawberry stride past her, scowl deeper than usual, and jaw determinedly set against her. _

"_Ichigo!" Rukia ran to catch up with him, skirt flapping slightly to Keigo's glee. She saw Ichigo barely give her a glance as he rounded the corner to their class._

"_Ichigo!" she tugged on his arm and fell into step with him. "Are you still not talking to me?" she asked, a little winded from her slight run._

_He didn't reply, didn't look at her, just kept walking forward a little faster. His strides, which were usually carefully synced for her shorter legs were making large leaps._

_An exasperated noise escaped from Rukia's throat. "You are such a child! I can't believe that you're giving me the silent treatment!" Since summer break ended, she thought bitingly._

_She stomped her feet but continued to try to match his pace._

"_You're being so juvenile!" she raised her voice. "I'm not—it's not—you're overreacting!"_

_Rukia noted that the muscle in his jaw tightened and she had a tense feeling that he was going to reply. He stopped, turned toward her, face set to speak, and Rukia prepared herself. She had a speech. She knew what she wanted to say to defend herself. She'd been planning it since school started, but Ichigo shook his head and returned to walking at that bastardly speed._

_She took a calculated intake of breath, shaking her hair out of her face. Fisting her hands stiffly at her sides, she filled her lungs with air and screamed as loud as she could, not caring about the filled hallway. "You're such a coward!"  
_

_And to her pleasure, he stopped (along with several bystanders) and turned around, anger and annoyance clearly written on his face. "What. Did. You. Just. Call. Me?"_

_Rukia stood triumphantly, crossing her arms in front of her, and jerking her head to the side. "You heard me Ichigo Kurosaki." A few classmates turned away from their lockers to watch the showdown while some merely walked past, uncaring._

_He looked around as he closed the gap between them. "I heard you, but I'm just waiting for the punch line." Slight gasps were heard around her, and Rukia knew it was because of the confrontation. Ichigo's scowls gave him a certain reputation 'round this here parts._

_But Rukia looked up at him defiantly, smirking even at her gall. "I think I'm looking at it." She replied, and she refrained from adding three-snaps in Z-formation like she saw on television._

_The tension on his face went from murderous to cool in the matter of seconds. He sighed and turned back around, walking away at a normally calm pace. "I'm done with this!" he announced to the hallway, clutching his books against his thigh as he went._

_Rukia shook her head emphatically, her tresses whipping her shoulders and chin. She stomped her foot. "Stop walking! Stop walking when I'm talking to you!" she yelled. A few of the guys guffawed to her right and she sent them a glare that would haunt them till their deaths._

"_Ya, ya," he waved over his shoulder, "whatever." _

_Rukia's face heated up at the impertinence. She followed behind him. "You're being a petty, stubborn jerk, who—who—" Rukia blundered._

_He spun around, taking her by surprise. "Yeah?"_

_She pressed her mind for something—anything that would stun this boy to silence and make him rue the day—"Who is really disagreeable sometimes!"_

"_Disagreeable?" Then again, she does crack under pressure._

_But she needed to stand by her guns. "Yeah." Many of their classmates exchanged knowing glances, sensing an end to this week's Kurosaki-Kuchiki face off. They began to disperse as the late bell alerted them._

_But the pair ignored the warning and stood there, in the middle of the hallway, staring daggers at one another. "Me?" Ichigo asked. " Disagreeable?"_

_Rukia wavered as she leaned forward. "Yeah!"_

"_Where did you learn you insults from? Harlequin romances?" He turned on his heel and entered their classroom with Rukia fuming behind him._

_I already said I was sorry!  
-Rukia_

… _  
-I_

_Is that really all you have to say to me? I'm actually apologizing!  
-Rukia_

_Watch out or Hat-and-Clogs will catch you.  
-I_

_You're being a snob  
-R_

… _  
-I_

_Is that I for Ignoramus? Because you're starting to piss me off  
-R_

_That depends, is R for really annoying? And you started this. I didn't ask you to write freakin' notes to me!  
–Ignoramus _

_We haven't talked since school started! It's your fault that I've had to resort to such measures  
–Really pissed Off_

_Well stop. What are you? 13?  
–Ingenious _

_Check Box Yes or No: Will you get over yourself?  
–Righteous_

_You didn't even draw boxes. You'd think an artist such as yourself would add those in? Besides, you forget that I'm not talking to you  
-Indignant_

_Yeah, well, you're technically NOT talking to me buddy  
-Retrorocket_

_Ha-di-fucking-ha.  
-Irrefutable  
P.S. Retrorocket?_

_My, my such language. What would Hat&Clogs think?  
-Red (we're not all pompous wordsmiths like you)_

_Try rueful? Regretful? Remorseful?  
-Irrevocable _

_HA! What do you think this is? Soviet Russia? You can't just control my emotions and opinions! Why don't you just get over yourself?  
-Remmington Steele_

_What? Just admit that you didn't have to be so harsh?  
-Intergalactic Space Aliens_

_Ichigo, just accept it. I can't reciprocate my feelings. I thought you'd be a little more mature and understanding about this.  
-Reverse Catapult_

_You aren't a wordsmith. Reciprocate is def. not the word to use in this case.  
-Inner tubes Save Lives_

_You can't correct me, I'll use whatever word I want. You lost that right when you stopped talking to me!  
-Radiohead_

_Whose fault is that? You didn't have to be so insensitive  
-Ice Cube_

_Quit acting wounded. I wasn't harsh  
-Revolutionary War_

_Whatever. And stop drawing those damn rabbits with your notes! It's just sick.  
-Insanely Replying_

_So what Ichigo? I already apologized (refer to the beginning of this note), and I'll draw rabbits wherever I please  
-Remaining Indifferent_

_What do you want me to say exactly? I'm sorry about my feelings?  
-Intently Persuading_

_Just accept it Ichigo. I don't like Shakespeare. I've already accepted that you don't like Gris  
-Rabbits_

_I said that he was alright! I didn't say that I hate him….  
-I Hate Rabbits_

_Sheesh Ichigo, did it really take you this long to figure out that we've been writing in my book? And you didn't have to voice it loud enough for the entire CLASS TO HEAR YOU!  
-Rabbits Hate YOU_

As You Like It_ is a play that shouldn't be used for petty messages passed in a class room. OR Chappy drawings in the margins. Besides, isn't this a textbook?  
-It Doesn't Matter If Rabbits Hate Me, Because the Feeling's Mutual_

_Don't complain! You've always wanted to write up there with the greats! And look! You're writing near old Billy himself!  
-Rabbits Hate You More Than You Hate Them_

_Fine. But I want you to know that I'm only writing on this because you'll get in more trouble than me.  
-I Don't Care What Rabbits Think_

_Stupid. My name isn't even on this. ICHIGO ICHIGO ICHIGO  
-Rabbits Say That Isn't What You Said LAST NIGHT! BOO YEAH!_

_RUKIA RUKIA RUKIA RUKIA  
-If You're Reading This, My Name is RUKIA KUCHIKI_

_SHAKESPEARE IS OVERRATED  
-Rukia Kuchiki Can Write All She Wants In This Because It's a Store-Bought Copy Idiot!_

_I'm going to pretend that I didn't read that  
-I_

_You can't cross out what I wrote! That goes against the code of note passing! SHAKESPEARE IS OVERRATED. SHAKESPEARE IS OVERRATED! SHAKESPEARE IS OVERRATED! It's my book! I'll write what I want!  
-R for R We Back To Just Using Letters?_

_You're such an idiot.  
-I for I'm Just Trying to Save Time_

_What's the Big deal Kurosaki? Why are you so tied up with me not liking it?  
-R_

_He's universal Rukia. He's quoted every where  
-I_

_And it's turned really cliché now. Show me one good line that hasn't been overplayed in pop culture. One that has meaning.  
-R_

_Rukia risked a glance at Ichigo desk on her left. He was hunched over his own copy of _As You Like It_ following along as Keigo read his lines as Orlando with dramatic flourish._

_That wasn't right. Where was her scribbled, inked up copy they were just writing on?_

_She took another peak to see it nowhere in sight, and thinking that he was being careful not to get caught, decided to wait until he passed it back. Playing with her pen, she listened as Orihime read aloud as Oliver, then Hat-and-Clogs went on to dissect a few lines again, and still Ichigo didn't give her book back!_

_She tried throwing him noticeable glares and hitting his desk with tiny pink bits from her eraser, but the bastard remained unmoved! She sat through the rest of class with no book, nothing to do, and seething. When class was over, she was planning to give Kurosaki the lecture of his life._

"_Any volunteers for Charles," Urahara asked, his raccoon eyes roving over the class and as usual everyone failed to meet him._

"_Kurosaki!" Rukia jumped as Urahara pointed his fan at the boy beside her. "Excellent!"_

_She could feel the entire class turn toward their direction, curious. Ichigo never read lines in class, or answered aloud, or shared his essays, let alone volunteer. He basically took everything with a scowl. Even though a few of them knew that it was his favorite subject._

_Ichigo grimaced, probably feeling his classmates' eyes upon him, and took up the cues after Orihime._

"_Where will the old duke live?" Orihime asked, inflecting her voice properly, turning to watch Ichigo like her neighbors._

_Rukia watched as Ichigo shifted in his seat, and she knew it was because he was uncomfortable with the attention. He started out nervously, trying to control the gruff wobble in his voice, _

"_They say he is already in the forest of Arden, and  
a many merry men with him; and there they live like  
the old Robin Hood of England:--"_

_but as he read further she could see the stability and confidence grow in his expression and tone._

"_-- they say many young  
gentlemen flock to him every day, and…"_

_His eyes left the page, looking up with the merest of movements. Their eyes met as he said with emphasis, reciting by memory._

"…_fleet the time  
carelessly, as they did in the golden world."_

_A shiver ran through her spine. The class sat in awestruck silence. Rukia couldn't tell if it was because it was actually Ichigo reading or if they too heard the sincerity in his voice as he said that last line. _

_Urahara was the first to break the ice, and Rukia turned to him, listening as he praised Ichigo's good job and began to analyze with the class. She turned back to her neighbor, aware that his eyes hadn't stopped studying her, and she forced herself to look down at her desk, uncomfortable._

_Before she knew it, the bell rang, and she felt the rush of her classmates as they passed her desk to the exit. She busied herself with unzipping her bag, and she listened as Ichigo pushed his seat back, the metal squaking against the linoleum. She heard him get up and make his way toward her desk, tossing her store bought copy toward her before walking on triumphantly._

_Damn him, she thought grudgingly, shoving it into her bag. She got up and followed the stragglers out._

_Stupid, smug bastard. It was a good line._

**xxxxx**

Rukia patted the bulge in her purse, where she knew her cell sat, undisturbed. It was a miracle that no one had tried calling her again. Maybe her last call to Renji did the trick, or maybe she wasn't needed as much as she thought. In her current sitting arrangements, she was hoping for the latter.

It was almost infectious. This talking. It was like her thoughts couldn't catch up with her own voice, like she was running a marathon to catch up with him. She craved information. She needed to see what she missed, what his life was now.

"How are Karin and Yuzu?" she asked, dragging her hand back to her lap.

"Good," Ichigo scratched his head. "They're headed to university next year."

"They're seniors?" He nodded and she bulged her eyes. "Oh. Wow."

"Yeah."

"I mean, when we were in high school they were what? Two?" she did quick math in her head, figuring that if the twins were graduating, then she was indeed old.

"Not accurately," he admitted "But yes, they were—_young_." He fished through his wallet for their recent school photos and handed them to her.

She held both pictures up, side-by-side, amazed at the stark differences between them, not to mention the differences six years made. Above their photographed counterparts, she snuck a peak at their elder brother as he stared out the shop's front window at the blinking neon of the other stores. His dress shirt rolled up at the cuffs and his tie considerably loosened.

But none of it fooled her. Spotting him at the reunion she could see that he was still the same gangly, scowling orange-haired teenager from Karakura, despite his success. And Rukia felt a girlish pride in having this knowledge. Six years made no difference to Ichigo Kurosaki—technically three. She saw him three years ago when she met Shinji.

Funny that he didn't remember. Although, she knew that the bosky tend to not remember much.

As if feeling it, he turned to her gawking expression, and she covered it up on pretense to return the pictures.

As he fiddled with his wallet again, Rukia sighed nostalgically. "Ah man, they're little knock outs aren't they?"

"Please," he winced, sitting up to slip his wallet into his back pocket. "Don't."

"What? From what I hear," she looked past the counter. "Yuzu already has a boyfriend"

"What!"

"Orihime told me. Besides, Yuzu's your sister, how do you not know this?"

"Exactly. She's my sister. Of course I don't know!" he followed her line of sight as if this _boyfriend_ was stupidly standing in the same vicinity as Ichigo Kurosaki. "Who is it?"

"Jinta."

"What the hell is a Jinta?"

"He's Urahara's adopted son," she explained. "Didn't you see Ururu earlier? That's his sister."

She watched in amazed amusement as Ichigo's expression transformed from gaping surprise to downright anger. He did his name proud as heat rose from his neck to his forehead, looking more like the strawberry than ever. She just wasn't sure if it was the news that Yuzu was dating or if it was because the boy had ties to Urahara that cause it.

"If they ever get married," he muttered. "I would seriously be related to Hat-and-Clogs."

Rukia laughingly agreed, but noticing his grim expression she stopped short. "You know?" she asked, holding back the snort that was dying to come out. "I really wasn't going to come tonight."

He looked at her, anger still prevalent on his face. "Really?" he asked, doing his best to subside his previous annoyance. "And why is that?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. I haven't been here in a while, everyone would be there, it would be awkward…"

"…people are annoyingly braggy at them, you'd have to repeat your own life's story…" He said, lazily picking up his cup by the rim.

Her eyes widened as the thought came to her. "Speaking of which, I've read your last book!"

Ichigo grimaced and fingered the circular rim of his drink. "If you're trying to make good conversation we should probably leave my last book out of this."

"Why?" she asked innocently, knowing full well what Urahara just told him. She just wasn't sure how much she was allowed to know.

She smiled as he squirmed awkwardly across from her. "It's apparently shit." She took the candidness as a good sign.

"Oh? So that critic really got to you did he?

"I was really hoping that at least everyone didn't read criticisms about my works."

Rukia pursed her lips guiltily.

"What?"

She did her best to suppress the heat growing on her face. "Okay…don't think I'm weird or anything…and please do not think that I do this on a regular basis," she paused, "….it's actually completely natural considering our age and time…" She prattled, half forgetting her place.

"Just get the hell on with it," he interrupted, the old annoyance erupting again.

"You have to promise not to laugh."

"I think I'm too riveted to laugh right now."

"Okay." Rukia looked uncertainly at him then took a deep breath and let it out quickly. "I'veGoogledyou."

She watched as the information processed over his features. Intrigue turned into confusion turned into disbelief as he tried to make sense of what she just said. "You. Googled. Me?" he said more slowly, comprehension dawning as his own voice reverberated back to him.

"Yeah…" she demurred.

"That sounds so…"

She cringed. "I know."

"Dirty."

Actually. That she didn't. "How so?" she piped up.

"Google as a verb just sounds…really…"

"Naughty?" she supplied.

"Yeah, and it just sounds like a special request that I'd have to pay extra for."

Rukia let out a snort, unwarranted. She could feel his eyes on her as she laughed.

"So what sites popped up when you Googled me?" he asked, after she calmed down a bit. He didn't join in per se, but his scowl lessened.

"Typical ones. Your site, of course, your publisher, interviews, people who have reviewed your—"

"Which explains you knowing about Zangetsu."

"That's his name! Zangetsu! He was really mean in that last one, wasn't he?"

"Yeah," Ichigo relented, "but it's my fault for writing shit in the first place."

The comment was asking for a slap in the face, and if they were on their old terms Rukia would've done it. It was just one of those emo comments that usually warranted a slap or a kick in the shin to get his mind out of self-pity. Instead she watched his mop of spiky hair carefully. "I didn't think it was shit," she said.

"Rukia," the orange hair said, the face pointed down, "your favorite genre is the Harlequin romance."

She wasn't sure if she should be offended or not, and again she was reminded about how their old conversations would've went. A comment like that usually earned him a punch in the gut, but she refrained. "I don't think those are shit either," she said primly.

"Point proved," he said and Rukia didn't hold back this time. Her foot connected with his shin under the table, and she was happy to hear a gasp of pain at the contact. "Fuck!" his eyes narrowed as he watched her carefully calm looking face.

"Take that triumphant grin off your face you jerk."

"Brat. You wear heels now."

Oh. Right. That. She ducked under the table to see Ichigo rubbing his leg tenderly. "Sorry."

"You should be." He said rubbing his shin until the tickling pain diminished. "I never thought about that before." He added.

"What?" she asked, tucking her hands so she was sitting on them, guilt coming over her.

"Googling someone," he continued.

"Oh yeah, cyber stalking is the wave of the future," she explained, "Better even because it's not illegal."

"That's not really comforting." Pause. "So why—"

"Yes?"

"Let me finish at least."

"Sorry. Please do go on."

"So why did you end up coming here on so short notice?"

He waited for her to stop drinking, "It wasn't short notice."

"I thought that you were in Germany two days ago?"

"Oh." She slammed the now empty cup onto the table. "_That."_

"I mean, I know that reunions are fun and everything, but why go through the trouble?"

"Orihime called me," she said simply, knowing that that in itself was enough of a reason.

She was happy to see him nod like he too understood. "And she guilted you into coming?"

"Well, you know Orihime and all, but I still wasn't going to come."

That seemed to surprise him. "So what prompted the three-sixty?"

Rukia took two seconds to decide if she was going to tell the truth or not, before her voice blurted out, "You actually."

The intrigued look on his face made her wish she could physically grab her words back into her mouth. Like sucking up a speech bubble in the comics.

"Me?"

He looked…amused? Amused at what? "She told me that you were coming, definitely," she added, willing her explanation to come out convincing and less desperate than her previous comment. "So I decided that if you thought it was okay to come, then I would too." And she did her best to stop the blush threatening to rise from her neck.

To her horror, he didn't say anything more, and to kill the silence, she sat up straighter and cleared her throat. "I hear you moved last year?" she tried, hoping he'd take the hint.

For a moment, he was silent like he was considering whether to let her get away with the subject change, and Rukia's chest raced in abject nervousness.

"Yeah," he allowed, natural scowl practically gone from his face. "I sold my old apartment when the last book came out, and Yoruichi immediately put me on a world tour that lasted about three months."

"Wow, Mr. International."

"Shut-up."

"No, really. I'm impressed. Three books and you've finally went global. It's really an accomplishment."

"…thanks…"

"You're blushing now."

"I am not."

"You blush really easily Ichigo."

"Shut-up Rukia."

"No really!" Pause, then more conspiratorially, "Do you still get really bad Drinking Flush?"

"Rukia…"

"Don't roll your eyes! I was just asking a question! Sometimes I thought you'd explode if you drank too much."

"Says the girl who's is the definition of lightweight?"

"I am not a lightweight," she said adamantly.

"I was there for some of your more—um—proud moments."

She shook head ruefully. "How did you moving to New York turn into a conversation about my drinking habits?"

"H_abits_? If it's become a habit we should probably seek help for you." He finally noticed her expression. "Did you know that that rude face you're making means a greeting in some cultures?"

"Yeah well what does this mean?"

"That I'm number one?"

"What about—"

"Ha-di-ha." He stopped. "As much as I'd like to see all the rude hand gestures you learned from your travels, it's my turn now."

"To make rude hand gestures?"

"No midget." She glared at the familiar nickname. "It's my turn to ask a question."

"I'm not even done yet!"

"You asked one!"

She shook her head. "I have a sub question."

"I don't think those exist, wait your turn midget." There it was again.

"Be a gentleman Kurosaki."

"Act like a lady then Kuchiki."

They stared each other down.

"Moot point I assume?" Ichigo asked, knowing full well what her answer would be.

"If I agree to disagree, can I still ask my sub question?"

"No."

"Then no," she lounged more comfortably in her seat, eyes locked onto his. "Because I can do this all night."

And as much as she knew that her brother would be angry with her, she knew that it was true. She couldn't leave. Even if she had somewhere else to be, she wanted to be right here, having a staring contest with him.

**xxxxx**

"Aren't you going to get that?"

"Huh?"

"That buzzing."

"You mean your phone?"

"What?"

Ichigo watched as Rukia reached over to the next table where her purse sat and pulled up his jacket sitting next to it. She handed it to him and he accepted it.

Pulling out the vibrating mobile from the inside pocket, he read the illuminated screen.

"Anything important?" she asked politely.

Ichigo looked over the now flipped open screen, where he was reading Keigo's and Tatsuki's previously ignored texts. "Just a missed call," he did his better to hide his wince, "from my editor."

She looked at him pityingly. "You can get that if you want."

"What?" he stared at the Yoruichi's name on his recent history. "No." he began to flip it back closed, "She'll understand. She's the one who put me on this trip anyways."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, it was her and my crazy dad's idea to make this tr—" he trailed off as the mobile in his hands began to shake gently, the screen illuminating again.

Rukia hid her smile behind her cup. "You should probably get it now."

Ichigo eyed the glowing screen without replying.

She stood and picked up her purse. Turning to him, she gave him a polite knowing smile. "I have to go to the bathroom," she excused, and Ichigo nodded, waiting until she was out of ear shot to flip off the cover. Holding the open mobile to his ear, he shot another look towards the now swinging restroom doors.

Safety ensured, "Hey," he greeted a little more relaxed, "Tatsuki."

**xxxxx**

"How's it going?"

"Oh, you know, the usual with all hell breaking loose and Byakuya threatening to fire my ass."

"So everything's pretty normal?" Rukia asked, looking at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She pulled back the loose strands of hair behind her ears. Stupid chignon was already falling apart.

"Rukia what the hell are you doing there?" Renji's voice came out clear on the other end. She could picture his fire engine red ponytail bobbing and tribal tattoos pointed down in anger. "You told me that you weren't even going!"

She turned to face the hand dryers. "What the hell are you Renji? My keeper?"

"I'm trying to cover both of our asses! Or have you forgotten about a little something called your job?" She knew that he was tugging his tie loose.

Rukia leaned onto the sink counter, toying with the plastic Chappy dangling from her Black Berry.

She heard him sigh. "Look, Byakuya's wondering where you are anyways, and if I remember correctly, you were the one who promised to be here if he gave you the month off to go to Germany to visit that damn artist."

He said the last word with such disdain, Rukia wished she was there to punch him in the gut. "It's just a formality," she spoke. "I don't even need to be there."

"Rukia, the Kasumiōji Group is your client!" she could hear the distinct clinking of champagne glasses and the trill of polite conversation behind him. A contradiction to his now gruff tone. "You can be such a flake!"

"Shut up Renji." Then, she changed tactics. "Did you get my voicemail?"

She could hear the eye roll over the air waves. "Yeah…I assume that _he's_ the reason you're not here?"

Rukia didn't respond.

"Rukia," he threatened, "if my ass is grass because of him, I'm going to—"

"What? Kill the CEO and owner of the company's sister? Wouldn't that have an opposite effect on the promotion you're vying for?"

There was silence on the other end, and Rukia could picture her angry friend's face, which was probably as red as his hair right now.

"Fine," he assented reluctantly. "Bring the damn kid along, but you have to leave now and do your damn job!"

Rukia turned to face the mirror again. Fishing out her Chappy lip balm from her purse she unscrewed the cap. "Oh," she slid the stick over her lips, "if you insist."

**xxxxx**

_Rukia slipped her Chappy lip balm back into her pocket. She stood her ground and gripped the metal pole tightly as the train's cabin jostled her fellow passengers._

_There weren't many people around her for a Friday morning, but Rukia chose to stand, feeling the constant vibration of the tracks below her feet and the swaying of the train as it rounded another corner. She let her body tilt and move with each movement of the entire subway. For her, it was a very controlled form of free-falling._

_Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, letting it out as the train stopped to pick up more passengers. The din of the cabin rising as more bodies piled in. Paranoid, she scanned each face carefully, looking for any features that might belong to someone who knew her. She quickly dismissed the man in the hat, who she first believed to be her brother's associate, and she sighed in relief as she confirmed that the woman sitting by the sliding door was not her teacher._

_Truth was Rukia Kuchiki didn't usually do this._

_Girls like her didn't decide that they were going to play hooky from their own school to go visit another. One, hooky was always out of the question, and two, it was just stupid. Who contradicts the purpose of hooky by visiting another school, where they do basically the same things? –where there are teachers who could still report you to a truancy officer? –and where it took at least thirty minutes to get there by train?_

_Girls like Rukia Kuchiki just didn't take the risk when they had obligations to their own education and teachers only ten minutes away from home. Girls like her listened to their elder brother's unspoken rules about required education and public transit._

_At least she wasn't dressed in her Karakura High uniform. Now _that_ would've garnered attention. If not from truancy officials, then from pervs at best._

_The cabin heaved forward to stop, and she widened her stance to steady herself, proud to have gained her subway legs like a pro. She clutched the flat, canvas art bag against her thigh while squeezing the germ infested pole. Ahh if Byakuya could see her now._

_She joined the rush of people exiting the metro, finding the right direction on the sidewalk, and trekked toward her original high school._

_The grounds and steps were familiar to her, ingrained in her brain like a second thought with hardly any effort needed on her part. The grocery store she used to frequent or the art store she stalked for supplies, she covered the blocks in a matter of minutes, ultimately arriving at her destination._

_She shouldered her art bag, studying the large school in front of her. Class had already started so the school yard was deserted,but if she looked close enough, she could make out a few familiar faces through the windows._

_That was where she would be now, she couldn't help but think, as she made her way up the brief set of steps leading toward the building._

_Sliding inside, she looked both ways, making sure the hallways were void of teachers or administrators, before walking briskly down the hall. She took the familiar path towards her destination—right, left, down a set of stairs, down the hallway. Her heart began to beat with the excitement and nerves, a slight buzz of anticipation for breaking the rules._

_In only a few steps, she arrived at the proper door, room 13. Knocking timidly on the door, she waited as a voice called out on the other side before she popped her head then her whole person into the room._

"_Rukia Kuchiki," the speaker choked in surprise. "As I live and breathe." The man's face broke out in a welcoming smile. His long white hair swished behind him as he rose from his desk, arms outstretched to greet her._

"_Mr. Ukitake," she acknowledged, shaking the offered hand of the man before her._

_He smiled beatifically, leading her to sit at one of the large, wooden tables around the room. "So you've come to visit the old studio," he said pulling out the stool for her._

"_Nothing's really changed," she recalled, studying the new artwork on the walls and above the windows. There were the familiar assignments of study of shade, line, foreshortening up, and the same clothesline ran the diagonal of the room with art work clothespinned to hang above their heads. Charcoal portraits were grouped above the blackboard, and Rukia could vaguely make out the identities of a few of them, despite the amateur attempts. Jugs of paint and bins of crayons or pencils sat near the sinks, still in a tidy disarray expected of an art room._

_It smelled the same too, like tempera paint and table cleaner. Ukitake always made them clean thoroughly after a major project._

"_It's only been a few months Rukia," he pointed out, taking her out of her observations. "Not that much can change."_

_She nodded, agreeing while she studied the empty classroom. "No class?" she asked, taking the offered chair while pulling her skirt under her thighs in an automatic lady-like fashion._

_He followed her gaze as if noticing it for the first time. "Not till later," he replied, taking the seat opposite her. Then added teasingly, "But shouldn't I be asking the same question?"_

_Rukia looked up sheepishly, her red face giving the whole story away._

_He smiled, chuckling at her reaction. "I see you brought some of your work," he said, changing the subject as he gestured toward her bag._

_She took the opportunity to look away, busying herself with the zipper, pulling the tab over the separating teeth. "Yes! I—that is—um…"_

"_How's school?" he asked while Rukia pulled out a canvas and a few large sheets of drawing paper, apparently just ripped from a drawing pad, the serrated edges still frazzled on the top._

"_School's school," she informed him vaguely, shrugging while pushing the pieces toward him with nervous excitement. She looked away, allowing him some privacy as she listened to him shuffle through them, murmurs of interest coming from his direction every once and a while._

_She heard him run his hands over the edges of one, lifting it off the table for closer study. "I see you're still continuing your study of Chappy the Rabbit," he said, an under layer of amusement in his tone._

"_What?" she asked, the word coming out like a squeak. She looked up to see him holding a large sheet of paper from her drawing pad, doodles of Chappy the Rabbit doing gymnastics covering it. "Oh that's—that's not. I mean, it's not—"_

_She heard him chuckle again as he placed the sheet down, spreading the others out on the table like a fan. "I understand," he said, fingering a canvas piece. "But these others, Rukia…"_

_She raised her eyebrows and perked her ears up, hopeful._

_His eyes crinkled kindly as they met over her hard work. "They're really remarkable."_

_Rukia allowed herself to sigh in relief, watching as Ukitake lifted one of the pieces for a better examination. "I can see from these that you've learned more there than while you were here at the Shinigami Academy."_

"_Sir?" she asked, her eyebrows knitting in perplexity._

_He peered over the top of one of her charcoals, his eyes crinkled kindly. "You have something different that you lacked while here," he explained, and he turned over the large sheet to prove his point. It was a rough sketch she did while sitting with Ichigo at the river one day. She remembered mindlessly sketching his shoes and legs in the foreground, before moving towards the scenery before her, the evening sun and the lazy ripples of water. She remembered sitting next to his lounged form as he read from his book, his head propped up on his backpack, jacket tossed aside for her to sit on; her drawing pad angled on her lap, preventing him from peaking. But looking at it now, she could see how it appeared that the feet belonged to the viewer, how the scene must've looked from a gangly, orange-haired teenager. The memory of the lazy day brought a smile to her face, which Ukitake took as an answer._

_He turned it back around to look at it again before placing it back down. He looked at the other pieces while speaking, "These truly show that you found a home there." _

_She started at that. It wasn't a statement of fact per se, but merely an observation: She found a home there. Not really a question, but all the same, Rukia felt she had to confirm it. Nodding to herself, she studied each piece as if for the first time. A few sketches of the skyline from the school's roof, a quick portrait of Orihime during lunch, Ichigo's bedroom with Ichigo hunched over his desk. "Yes," she agreed, believing the words all the more as she said them aloud._

"_Yes," she declared proudly. "I have."_

**xxxxx**

"Coffee," he heard Tatsuki say impressively. "Is that all?"

"Why what else were you expecting?"

"A text back would've been a start."

"How 'bout an apology?"

"Yeah…that'll do for now, I guess." Tatsuki paused.

Ichigo looked at the screen to check if she hung up or not. "Does that count or do I actually have to say the words?"

"Save it," she interrupted. "What I want to know is what's going on?"

"I told you. I'm at Urahara's." he surveyed the room and the smell of coffee strong in the air. Tessai was walking from table to table, spraying blue liquid from an industrial cleaner and wiping it off with a dank rag.

"Snazzy."

"Yep." Tessai looked up from his work, surprised to see Ichigo still there.

"So did you have 'The Talk'?" Tessai hung the sprayer in his back pocket before shoving through an Employee's Only door.

"I'm pretty sure she knows where the birds and the bees come from Tatsuki."

"Original." She admired flatly. "And you know very well what I mean!"

He turned to face the window, looking at the deserted area. "What did you expect?" he wondered aloud. Across the street, bars and shops turned off their lights almost in sync with one another, leaving only the orange glow of the street lamps to reflect off the darkened glass fronts and wet pavement. A few off work employees waved to one another before going off in opposite directions.

Tatsuki clicked her tongue impatiently. "After not having seen each other in so long, I'd expect a little more immediacy."

He scratched the nape of his neck with his uncellphoned hand, watching as another shop pulled down a gated front over their glass. "I'm afraid it's a bit more complicated than that."

"Then uncomplicate it."

"And how would I go about doing that?" he asked. A car passed by to pick up some off the clock workers before whizzing by, picking up puddles along the way.

Suddenly, his view of the outside was taken over by the reflection of the coffee shop's owner. Their eyes meeting through the glass, Hat-and-Clogs waved cheerily.

Ichigo turned to face him, phone still held to his face. "Tatsuki?" he didn't wait for acknowledgement. "I'm going to have to call you back—"

"She's there, isn't she?" she asked excitedly.

"Bye."

"Wait! What did—"

He closed it shut. "Urahara."

"We're closing now, Ichigo," he said a little regretfully. "But if you and Miss Kuchiki are still using the place, then I'd be happy to let you stay—"

"That's not necessary." Ichigo looked past his old mentor to the midget walking towards them, her purse set on her shoulder as her heels clacked against the parquet floor. "We shouldn't intrude," she elaborated, finally making her way to their table confidently.

Urahara looked at Ichigo for confirmation. "Yeah," he agreed, gathering his coat and mobile. "We should," he stood. "We should probably get going anyway."

"Of course!" Urahara said, leading them to the front door, and holding it open for Rukia. As Ichigo began to follow her through, Urahara stopped him by the elbow. "Remember what I said Ichigo," he warned.

Ichigo looked confused, then followed the man's gaze to where he could make out Rukia's silhouette taking a few steps down the sidewalk. The A-line of her skirt and the point of her heels meshing into one petite shadow. She turned back to him to wait, her face half lit by the fluorescence of a 24 hour store on her right.

Ichigo smiled as Rukia half heartedly waved. "And what is that?" he questioned, not turning to face him while he took the last steps out.

He missed the knowing smirk cross over his mentor's face as he began to close the door, hand on the safety lock. "Make sure that you take a risk."

Ichigo finally looked at him, the door only a few inches opened. "I thought that you were referring to that 'don't stop trying thing' you said earlier."

"Oh that too," Urahara chirped. "But," he emphasized, "if you were really listening you would've heard everything."

Ichigo set his jaw, readying to ask him what the hell was he even talking about, when he heard the distinctive click of a lock being turned in place. He watched in annoyance as his mentor smiled, waving happily on the other side of the glass.

"Ichigo?" he heard Rukia ask.

He swiveled on his heel to face her. She stood under the pooling light of one of the street lamps at the end of the block. "Are you coming?" she asked, slinging her purse across her chest and tying her jacket to the strap. More wisps of hair were beginning to fall out of place, the light setting them off.

Ichigo gripped his own jacket, pulling it back on, one arm through then the other. "I don't know," he said uncertainly, meeting her under the buzzing light.

"Oh." Rukia looked to study the strap crossed in front of her.

"It's late," Ichigo reasoned. "And my flight back home is tomorrow."

She looked up at that. "Oh? Tomorrow? Really?"

"Yeah," he attempted lightly. "And I probably should head home." He gestured with his thumb.

"Right." She nodded overtly. "Of course."

They stood there for a minute, unsure of where to pick up.

Then Rukia smiled, putting her hand out and Ichigo took it, giving it a hearty shake.

"So…I'll see you around?" she asked, as their hands drifted apart.

Ichigo looked down at her, allowing himself to study her more clearly. There was that same confidence she had coming back. That same expression that came out when she asked him to take in Kon. "Yeah," he agreed readily. He took two backwards steps away from her, out of the safety of the light. "Yeah you will."

Rukia smiled and did the same before pivoting to walk away properly. "See you later Ichigo," she called out softly. Her voice the only sound on the deserted street apart from their feet on the wet pavement. "Thanks for the water!"

"See you later Rukia," he replied, only half believing it to be true as he rubbed the back of his neck, making his way down the dark sidewalk.

**xxxxx**

_Ichigo knew the real reason why Rukia was drinking so much: yet another break up with the infamous Kaien Shiba. _

_The same guy who broke up with her at the end of last year over the phone. Resulting in that missed P.E. class where she had to stay after school to redo the laps, and found Ichigo waiting for her afterwards to walk her tired legs back home._

_It was the same ex she started to re-date months later, only to break up with after two months at a Shinigami Academy versuses Karakura High soccer game, which Ichigo couldn't pay attention to because she spent the rest of the game cursing the man to kingdom come (and if he did try to shut her up, she'd kick him in the back)._

_The now double ex-boyfriend she had been spending more and more time with after school despite two previous break ups, only to tell him off after lunch when he played hooky again to come visit her that afternoon._

_The very same Kaien Shiba._

_Every single time._

_Although, this recent debacle wasn't a real beak-up but more of a preemptive action on Rukia's part, and despite the fact that she was the one who initiated it, she was still acting jilted. Thus the reason she dragged him to this party in the first place._

_Ichigo watched from the sidelines as she tilted her head back to down another round of shots with the rest of the guys around Keigo's kitchen table. One by one, they slapped their miniature glasses down, wincing slightly before turning to one another to high-five congratulations while a few hugged Rukia's shoulders._

_She smiled appreciatively and did a quick intake of breath, shaking her head to relieve the searing pain down her throat._

_Ichigo hadn't really gotten to know Rukia's eternal boyfriend, but he was beginning to hate him already._

"_Keigo!" Rukia called out gaily, jiggling her now empty shot glass at their host across the table._

_Keigo grabbed the bottle eagerly, preparing to top her off, but Ichigo grabbed it from him. "Ichigo!" he whined, and Ichigo placed it on the counter behind him._

_Rukia narrowed her eyes at the interception. "Ichigo!"_

"_Don't you think you've had enough?" Ichigo asked, turning to face her, setting his scowl._

"_If I say no, will you let me have the bottle?" she asked, tilting her head in the same bossy manner Ichigo knew well._

_Ichigo didn't deign that with an answer._

_She stared him down, but in not getting the reaction she wanted, she stormed off, Keigo at her heels._

_It was a pattern that Ichigo understood so well. Rukia got back then broke up and always had Ichigo there to rely on. _

_She never asked him to, and he could see that she was a little embarrassed with herself every time, but she never asked him to leave her alone. It was like she was used to it too and accepted the sick, never-ending turn of events, like she was fine with putting her pride aside._

_After the first one, she had the initial shock of it being their first ever break up. But since then, she took each one with confident anger and acute self-denial. He wasn't sure if it was because she knew that they were bound to get back together, but he did see it as unhealthy, especially with her coping mechanism in this case. At parties, or in general actually, Rukia wasn't a drunk, but tonight she drank more than her usual self would allow._

_As usual, Keigo's house was filled to its maximum potential. People hung out on the back porch, in the bedrooms, gathered in the kitchen. A long line for the bathroom wound through the hallway and to the living room, where Chad's band played their set. Spotting Ichigo across the rest of their head banging student body Chad gave him a curt nod before refocusing on his guitar solo. Ichigo took a second to assess the crowd before deciding that Rukia wasn't there._

_Red plastic cups littered every available space, and the smell of stale beer and sweat mingled in the air. It was musty and crowded and hot. The music was everywhere and talking and shouting grew under like background din._

_Worst of all, people gathered in clusters, stubbornly not moving as Ichigo tried to get past. He scowled harder, and his face and reputation allowed him some leeway but not enough to make the Rukia hunting any easier. He cursed her all the more as a few drunken first years sidled up to him, only to be turned off by his most gruesome look._

_Then over the pounding music and the talking teenagers, "ICHIGO!"_

_He turned at the sound of his name, looking over his shoulder for the source, when he saw the two flailing arms above the crowd._

_Following the arms to their owner he came across a weary looking Uryuu holding up an overly excited Orihime, who continued to wave her arms over her head to garner his attention._

_Several other males of their student body watched animatedly, probably because her extended arms pulled her endowededness up and down for the whole world to see. Uryuu did his best to glare at the room at large while holding the girl down._

"_ICHIGO!" she called out again, running toward him to trap him in a too-tight hug. The strong smell of beer accompanied her, which was probably the reason for her excited excitedness. "I didn't know you were here!"_

_Uryuu and Ichigo did their best to free his now collapsed lungs. "Really?—ugh" he loosened her arms. "Because we met—ah—twice already—Uryuu!"_

_Uryuu pulled her back, holding her arms by her sides. "We probably should go fin d Tatsuki," he suggested._

_Ichigo nodded but Orihime went back for another hug. "ICHIGOI'MSOGLADYOU'REHERE!"_

_Realizing that she wasn't trying to kill him, he gently hugged her back, bugging his eyes at Uryuu to pull her off him. "Thanks…Orihime…" Uryuu took a step toward them and carefully pride her away by the shoulders._

"_We need to go find Tatsuki," he reminded her again._

"_Ohyeswedo!" she agreed, throwing her arm around his shoulders as she began to sway backwards._

_Uryuu stabilized her and threw a look at Ichigo before walking away. "I saw her stumble to the basement just now," he said, gesturing toward a nearby door._

_Ichigo thanked him and waved them off, heading in the opposite direction, past couples leaning against the walls and groups lingering in circles talking._

_He stood aside as a few drunk stragglers came through the door Uryuu pointed toward. Mizuiro stumbled through, an upper class(wo)man on each arm. He threw Ichigo a wink as Ichigo ducked through the door frame._

_Each step he took creaked the sagging wooden steps down to Keigo's basement. The noise surprisingly loud as the ruckus of the party was shut out from behind the closed door. Making the last few steps down and onto the cement, Ichigo looked around the small, dark space from the seventies printed couch where a couple sat too close together to a wide table converted for beer pong, a group of boys gathered about._

_Then, sitting on the pistachio washer and dryer, at the farthest wall was a slumped Rukia Kuchiki, her head resting on the basket of laundry behind her._

"_Rukia?" he greeted, standing, almost eye to eye with her._

_She rubbed her face against the stack of towels topping over the basket. "Ichigo."_

_He took the seat next to her on the washer, noting the plastic cup in her hand. "I assume that isn't just juice?"_

_An annoyed look passed over her features as she sat up to hand it to him. Accepting it, he took a sip of what he concluded to be more Vodka than juice and began to hand it back, but she shook her head. Instead, he placed it at his side._

"_I'm pathetic aren't I?"_

_The words came as a surprise to him and he looked at her crumpled skirt and messy hair. Through the glassy look on her face, he could make out the sober Rukia he saw on a daily basis._

"_Why do you say that?" he asked. _

"_I'm drinking," she pointed out to the beer pong table as someone whooped victoriously, "over a guy."_

"_It's been known to happen." He agreed watching her tiny feet dangle over the edge._

"_But it's not what I thought I'd be like," she admitted gloomily. She reached around to pick up her cup and took a small sip. "Huh?" she looked at her hand. "Look, I'm doing it again." She pushed it back at him and he took it, sipping it in turn._

"_Then," he tasted the sweetness of the cranberry juice mingled with the strong taste of the alcohol. "Why do you go through it?"_

_She didn't answer at first and Ichigo took another gulp._

"_I don't know," Rukia slurly admitted. He sobered a little as he looked at her forlorn face. Her relationship(s) were the epitome of the white elephant in the room: avoided at all costs but felt by everyone, and here she was loosened by alcohol and driven by depression to talk to him about it, candidly._

"_But I broke up with him," she reasoned. It came out as raw thought like she wasn't thinking it over before voicing it. "Why am I upset right now?"_

_He took another sip, beginning to enjoy the slight buzz overcoming him. "I don't know."_

"_He should!" she cut off. "He should be the one here getting drunk, trying to—to—" her voice broke slightly and she changed tactics. "Do you know that I broke up with him?" her tone stronger than before._

_Ichigo told her that he had. "But," he added. "I didn't realize that you two were dating again."_

_She licked her lips. "We weren't," she admitted woefully. "We were—just—" he could see as she chewed the inside of her cheek. She put her hand out for the cup and he offered it, watching as she took a deep swallow of alcohol instead._

"_Feel better?" Ichigo asked as she handed it back and he drank too._

_She shrugged, slouching. "We were going to. Back.," she looked up, hoping he'd understand._

_He nodded._

"_But I—I heard some things," her eyes drooped and her feet kicked more aggressively. "His best friend, she's a girl by the way."_

"'_She' usually implies that, yes."_

"_Stop being a smart ass," Rukia reprimanded, smacking his shoulder. He swayed slightly, not because of the alcohol but by an unwillingness to stand off her assault. He ventured a smile._

"_You think that she—"_

"_I don't know really," her hair fell in front of her face as she leaned forward, hands balling into one another. "But I heard things…" she drifted._

"_Well I hate him," he announced, drinking more of the cup's contents._

_Rukia leaned forward, lying her forehead onto her palms. "You don't even know him."_

"_Well you don't seem to like him right now."_

_She smiled dragged her hands over her nose. "I don't. He's wonderful." She dropped her hands. "We're wonderful. I'm—" Her head rolled onto his shoulder. "Not wonderful."_

_Ichigo patted her shoulder, his arm resting over her protectively. "I'd tell you that's not true, but you're probably just fishing for a compliment."_

_She picked up her head and replaced it with her chin. Her feet knocked his legs and again they swayed without a fight. "You're a little liar aren't you?"_

_Ichigo tilted his head downward so they were forehead to forehead. "And you're a little drunk."_

_She shook her head like a child as she drew back. "Stop calling me short," she insisted primly, "and I know when I'm drunk, and right now," she gestured toward the room at large. The party goers around them ignored her. Vaguely, they could hear Chad's band transition between songs. "I'm not—hic—drunk." _

_She snatched the near empty cup from him and toasted her juice to the wooden beams above them before chugging it down. Smiling to herself, she faced him before slightly swaying backward._

_He caught her back quickly. "Whoa! You are!" Rukia giggled and he steadied her. " And I probably shouldn't listen to you," he said seriously._

_She nodded. "That's probably for the best," she admitted, closing her eyes slightly then snapped them open. "But this is the only time!" she warned loudly._

_Ichigo chuckled. "Fine," he agreed, hopping off the appliance. "Come on midget." He held his arms out to help her._

_When she didn't move, he sighed and turned around to hoist her onto his back, his hands slipping on her thighs as her skirt rode up. He did his best to hold the fabric down when he began to walk up the stairs, none of the other basementeers giving them a second glace. She giggled near his ear as they past a group of seniors by the front door._

"_Where are we going?" she asked breathily, the smell of alcohol mixed with fabric softener tickling his nose, probably a result of her rolling in Keigo's laundry basket._

"_Home," he said as they made their way out of the doors and onto the front porch. The fresh night air a welcome change to the heated rank of the party. Ichigo took in a deep breath to sober himself, wondering at their next plan of action._

"_Can't," Rukia said wearily, her arms lazily hanging around his neck. "Byakuya's not home. Staying at Orihime's," she explained brokenly._

_Ichigo thought back to the giggly and also alcohol consumed Orihime probably being dragged to Tatsuki's house right now. "We'll go to my house then," he decided, tightening his hold on her as he felt her slip down. _

_He checked her Chappy watch on her dangling arm. It was almost three in the morning. At least his dad and sisters would be asleep. He could probably sneak her in._

_Turning to the proper direction of the Kurosaki Clinic, he began to tread down the street, the street lamps causing a pattern of light then dark along the sidewalk. His feet hollowly stepped along the pavement, the only sound as they drifted farther and farther away from Keigo's house._

_Behind him he could hear Rukia's breathing even out, a sign that she was either asleep or calming down. He felt her chin move to rest lightly on his shoulder, her slight exhales tickling his ear._

_She squirmed a little, moving her arms to grip his shoulders and thinking she was about to fall, he adjusted his own hold._

"_Thanks," she murmured quietly. Her breath and the sound of the word sent a slight shiver down his neck._

_Ichigo was about to answer, about to tell her "You're welcome," when he felt a pair of soft lips lightly touch the space of exposed skin behind his ear. A small kiss against his neck._

"_Thanks," she murmured again, settling her cheek to rest on his shoulder. He could feel her breathing even out as she hugged his shoulder and began to nestle peacefully into sleep, leaving him to make the walk to his house in the dark, the sound of her breathing nearby._

**xxxxx**

_**A/N:**__ Hey another long chapter! I apologize (yet again I know) for the wait but I did my best to really get this one right. Thanks for all the reviews for chapter 3 and hopefully you enjoyed chapter 4_

_Again I stole a song title. This time from the Arctic Monkeys_


	5. World at Large

**Chapter Five: World at Large**

**xxxxx**

The street lamp buzzed and flickered as she watched him walk away, his head tilted upward, his hands shoved into his pants pockets.

To herself, Rukia couldn't help but admit that he still walked with that familiar swagger of his. The nonchalant, uncaring posture that was simply, purely him. It amazed her that even after all these years he still carried himself the same way: feet hitting the pavement in the same determined manner. Clear cut confidence in every stride. She knew he wasn't aware of it most of the time. It was purely subconscious on his part, and annoyingly, he deserved to walk with that careless ease. He probably saved a kitten from a tree or helped an old lady cross the walk, little things which Ichigo chose to do almost unwittingly. He just had an understanding of right and wrong. And although he hated to admit it in high school, despite his tough guy reputation, Ichigo was a true softy on the inside, like a teddy bear, though he didn't appreciate the simile when she told him.

There was a strange, incomprehensible feeling of déjà vu overcoming her as she watched him make his way down the walk. A feeling in the pit of her stomach that felt almost at home. Has it really happened that often before?

The arms of the streetlamps hovered overhead, casting a dingy orange glow against the darkness that swallowed him up every few feet, before highlighting his form again.

Sure this was so familiar to her, but she never got used to it. It was like a sucker punch to the gut, unexpected but once she assimilated to the feeling, she remembered. She watched the pattern of light and dark play over his form as he became smaller and smaller. Farther and farther away.

There came a point where she couldn't make out the lines of his clothing, the separation of jacket to pants. His orange hair wasn't so stark against the backdrop, and his skin tone didn't differentiate from his dark suit. Farther and farther down, she couldn't make him out definitely, except for that familiar swagger. Those oh-so-careless steps that defined Ichigo Kurosaki since the day she met him.

She listened carefully for his shoes' scuffling. Each step making a light, wet smack on the pavement, _clop_. The sound hollow in her ears, fading out the farther he was, though he was only a few yards away, still in shouting distance really, _clop. _

Further and further. He was now a silhouette. A shadow against the orange lights from the lamps and the reflection off the wet concrete. Her eyes strained to see him.

He was still walking. She still stood there and watched.

All too familiar. All too repetitive.

History repeating itself once more.

If life were like a clock, they were the cogs.

Were they just meant to make the same mistakes?

Hopefully, not. Only, she couldn't shake off this empty space in the bottom of her gut. The feeling that this couldn't be it. This empty, hollow feeling in her gut (which was not hunger she told herself, although she hadn't eaten yet) willed her to do something. _Anything._ It gurgled in protest (still not hunger).

She teased her body with so much expectation tonight. Her senses jittered with it, fed off the invisible line linking her towards an imagined ending. She saw it in the way his face recognized her and felt it as they walked near one another. She smelled it in the air all around her as she entered the hotel, and her stomach was now asking for the promised goods (along with food). Demanded a penance for the disappointment she brought on.

Because Rukia couldn't let the night end on such a hanging note. So incomplete. So _typical_. It couldn't just be done like that.

Could it?

_Clop. _Every step he took, took him farther away from her.

Was it too late?

_Clop. _Oh!

The sound was like the ticking of a clock, and Rukia worked her brain furiously with the pros and cons. Ever the over-thinker.

_Clop. _Shit.

Had they really dissolved into such…_acquaintances?_

_Clop. _

She couldn't let their story stop there. It was too unfinished, too built up to actually be resolved by not being resolved.

_Clop. _

Plus, her stomach reminded her, she owed herself closure.

_Clop. _

A small voice in her told her to stop him.

_Clop. _

A tiny bit of bravery even crept up her throat, storing the sound right behind her tongue.

_clop._

But she stopped herself. A half-hearted gurgle escaped—

_clop. _

_-_nothing more.

_clop._

She watched him reach the extent of the last street lamp's reach and dissolve into the darkness.

(clop.)

And she turned the opposite way and faded out herself.

**xxxxx**

_She didn't know why she did it really._

_Rukia watched as he walked down the sidewalk, barely a look back or a wave as he left her there. She felt so—so—ugh!—foolish to be standing there. Out of all the stupid, idiotic, tactless things of her to say! _

_She thought back to the conversation that had just transpired, searching for anything that might redeem herself or ease her bad conscience._

_"Rukia," he had said, stopping her right at the doors of the school, students surging out as the remnants of the dismissal bell rang overhead._

_This was it. An entire day of him acting weird, and he was finally speaking to her. Finally going to open up about what the hell had been bothering him throughout class. Why he was acting so—so un-Ichigo that she was a hair's away from smacking this body snatcher out of him._

_She probably would have too, but something in her made her decide to watch and wait. She caught him earlier that day looking at his watch with a grimace and asked him about it. He shrugged her off, but there was a secret there, she knew it. There was something there that concern and curiosity urged her to find out._

_Rukia ignored the press of elbows and backpacks around her and waited as Ichigo dragged her to the side before finishing. "Do you think we could finish up that assignment later? I don't think I can do it tomorrow."_

_Not exactly the explanation she was hoping for._

_Rukia shook her head. "What are you talking about? It's due at the end of the week Ichigo! We won't have time! It's tomorrow or we won't get everything done."_

_There was faraway look in his eyes again, like he wasn't really aware that he was talking to her or standing there in the milieu of classmates. "I know that."_

_"Then what's so important that you want to put our grades in danger!" She demanded, annoyed and mistaking his expression for a lack of concern. "It's worth the amount of a final Ichigo!"_

_Ichigo dropped his gaze and stared at her for a second, before dropping his head. "I have a family," he paused to find the right word, "…thing"_

_"A family….thing?" she repeated a little too harshly. She'd feel bad about her abrasiveness later on. "That's your excuse?" Ichigo didn't reply, only looked past her at the students rushing past. That only seemed to annoy her further. "What in the world is your problem? Since this morning you've been—"_

_"Tomorrow's the anniversary," he continued un-hearing, looking past her still._

_The weight of that statement was almost lost on her. A scold was right at the tip of her tongue, but something in the tone of his voice, the severity of the look, and the way he'd been acting all day stopped her. It all added up really: why he's been so out of character, so cheerful today. She saw him wave to Orihime, act nice to Keigo (which set alarm bells off in the first place), and even _smile._ When he did it, Rukia had no idea what to make of it. He looked so…childlike when he smiled. So exposed, so unreal._

_There was just something so different in watching a smile grow on his face. Something almost fake, unlike his smirks, which always appeared genuine. Backwards normally for anyone else, but a smile on Ichigo looked alien. The muscles on his face weren't used to contorting that way, which probably accounted for the strained appearance when he did. If you knew Ichigo Kurosaki at all, or if you just saw him smile, you would notice the effort behind the happy expression._

_Something was definitely wrong with him then, and Rukia waited, holding her breath as the next words left his mouth. She saw the struggle behind his eyes. How he searched her own expression, determining whether the next information was worth to put towards her. She did her best to appear calm, to hide the curiosity she felt._

_Tired, he dropped his head, and almost reluctantly but still determined. "Tomorrow's the day that my mother died."_

_A tiny gasp caught in her throat, and her eyes widened in disbelief as she looked up to study his own reaction._

_He wasn't looking at her._

_For the entire time that she's known him, neither Ichigo nor his family ever told her what had happened to Masaki Kurosaki. She knew that she had passed away, she inferred that from the giant poster bearing her likeness in the Kurosaki household, not to forget the amount of times she's seen Isshin go up to it to speak it. But no one ever freely spoke of it. _

_She did always wonder what had happened to Ichigo's mother, was always curious about their situation, but she never felt the nerve to ask it. She never felt like she had the right to._

_Everything Rukia knew was on the periphery of the situation, and she was suddenly taken aback by the free access she was given. She felt the guilt in her curiosity and in not knowing what to say to this revelation._

_Speechless, at a loss of what to do, how to react, Rukia watched him watch the few stragglers leave the building. _

_"No," he corrected himself. There was a slight shake of his head as he spoke. A bitterness in the way he said the next sentence. "It wasn't just the day she died." He looked down at her then, their eyes finally meeting directly, a raw charge holding her up chin to face him. "It was the day that she was killed."_

_Rukia shook her head then and looked up to see that Ichigo's figure was no longer walking down the sidewalk, he probably already turned down the block._

_She didn't know what to say to him. His words caught her off guard and her mind blanked, and in that split second he stalked off, leaving her without the slightest idea as to what to say. Guilt washing over her for her apparent lack of concern and comfort._

_They were such a close family, she noted enviously, one that was comfortable enough to express annoyance or anger with one another because…well, Rukia always reasoned that if a family could act that natural then there must be real love underneath, real understanding that only a truly close family could share. _

_One, she was beginning to understand, that was able to come out from a major loss and still love each other unequivocally. _

_She loved the Kurosaki household. Their dynamic was infectious, and when she was there, Rukia felt that she wanted to stay. How selfish of her to take and take from a family that had loss already._

_She sighed, finding nothing redeemable in that conversation. How could she have been so insensitive?_

_"—amazed that you caught on so quickly," she heard a voice-Tatsuki?-say from behind her. "It took me three years to figure out what was going on."_

_"Yeah," Rukia's ears perked up to what she now distinguished as Orihime's voice. "Well he's been acting so—"_

_"Cheerful? Less scowly?" Tatsuki suggested. Rukia noted the contrast between both girls' tones, whereas Tatsuki was light, Orihime was serious. It struck her how out of character it was for Orihime to be sounding solemn. She was usually so breezy about everything, and for some odd reason her concern made Rukia start._

_"—all day. He's never been that way before," Orihime pointed out. Rukia had to agree with that. She swears he even laughed at Keigo's attempt at a joke._

_"Yeah," Tatsuki went on. "I expect we won't see him tomorrow. Him and his family practically disappear every June seventeenth."_

_Rukia could picture Orihime nodding thoughtfully as she said the next words, "but to lose one's mother at so young…"_

_Then Tatsuki was more quiet, understanding lacing her next words. "I know."_

_There was a longer pause this time, and for a second Rukia thought that they spotted her. Then again she wasn't taking great pains to hide anywhere. She was standing out in the open, and there were only a few other students milling around._

_"He really loved her," Tatsuki finished. She said it as if she was remembering it. "He always had this goofy grin on his face when his mom came to pick him up."_

_She could hear the smile on Orihime lips as she replied. "He should do that more often," she replied. "Smile, I mean." And Rukia remembered that look usually so alien on Ichigo's features today._

_Tatsuki laugh, releasing all traces of sobriety from her tone, and was back to her normal self. "I don't know Orihime. I'm just so used to seeing him scowl, it's like his version of smiling." Rukia nodded in agreement._

_"I guess," Orihime replied quietly, thoughtfully._

_Rukia almost turned around then, she felt their presence drawing closer and she really didn't want to get caught eavesdropping. Escaping without being seen seemed unlikely, but her worries were stopped by a giggle from Orihime._

_"We should really get going Tatsuki," Orihime reminded her friend easily. "You still have to get to the dojo and I told you I'd make you dinner!"_

_Rukia's heart went out to poor Tatsuki. "I don't know Orihime," Tatsuki chuckled nervously. "I might just go home to eat-"_

_"Nonsense Tatsuki! You know that—" Rukia stopped listening then._

_So Ichigo was very young when his mother passed away? It really shouldn't have been a surprise to her. The family didn't act like they just came out of mourning, but this new bit of information surprised her just the same. To lose a mother when one was so young…to be the eldest child without a mother…_

_Rukia wasn't going to lie to herself. She was surprised by the strong emotional tie he had. Especially since, she never saw any signs of it before._

_Ichigo was usually so noncommittal about the subject, and when she first came to his house it never came up. It just wasn't something that you introduced yourself with._

_Then again, it was understandable. She herself never knew her own parents, and yet she always deeply felt their loss. Whether it was out of obligation or not, she really couldn't say, but she felt like it was._

_But to lose a parent, one that you grew to love and actually know, would hurt a thousand times more than what Rukia could ever understand or feel. She could imagine. She could akin it to a loss of her own, but she knew that she would never know what to say to him when she saw him again._

_She only had an adopted older brother for family and a makeshift family abandoned in Rukongai. What did Rukia Kuchiki know about it? She was a parent onto herself._

_And knowing that, she pivoted on her heel and walked herself home._

**xxxxx**

Rukia Kuchiki was cold.

She was alone and cold on a deserted sidewalk late at night. Sketchy to the extreme really, and if she was a more superstitious person she'd panic because of the eerie dull that overcame her surroundings. Okay…the sound of her lone footfalls on the pavement was a bit unnerving (she'd seen enough thriller movies to see what situations like these led to) and her breathing became more self-conscious at the thought of it. Yet, that wasn't the only reason why she shivered so much.

The body shivered automatically as a result of cold. It was an uncontrollable mechanism to fight off an unwanted physical change. Shivers were psychological like that. Your mind decided how cold you were and your body obeyed.

In this case, Rukia shivered because of that tingling feeling she felt in her spine, the back of her neck, her feet. Her whole body itched with it. Half from either from the air and half from the meeting that had just occurred. She really wasn't sure the percentages actually.

She just knew that she convulsed as instances and memories came flooding back from the mere encounter with him. Feelings from guilt and regret and happiness all over past actions and motivations made her cringe mentally and shake her head physically.

Not to forget this last meeting just made her want to palm slap her forehead over and over (who said that repeating the same mistakes over was a symptom of the insane again?).

It just felt incomplete in the way she could have handled the situation. There was so much more that could've—_should've_ been said between them, so much that needed to be caught up on; because as so-called best friends, Rukia couldn't name one fact about Ichigo she didn't find on a website or a book jacket.

Hell, wikipedia probably had more info on her former best friend than she had.

And that was just sad.

Hugging her arms, her fingers roamed over the goose bumps forming all over her skin while she shook her head to bate off this meeting. The air was fresh and cool, especially thanks to the rain, and she was beginning to genuinely shiver like in anticipation for another memory or another internal argument. Her shoulders shook and her teeth clenched, and as she looked up at the sky, past the pollution of lights, to simply stare.

Despite the clouds gliding upstairs, she wished she could make out the moon, which was lost amongst heavy looking puffy clouds, which took over the sky, disallowing a view of any heavenly body. Rude.

Exhaling sharply, she took in her surroundings right to left. Her breath mingling before her in a small fog before dispersing.

It was that time of night that truly signaled a beginning.

Crowds of people were getting used to the darkness, embracing the sunless sky for orange-glowing street lamps and star-studded skies. Although tonight there weren't any seen shining up there. Instead, everything was overcast as clouds restlessly rolled above them. Thunder threatened once and a while as well to add a certain ambience.

And yet, despite that foreboding factor, the air brimmed with electricity from the people around her. A jittery, wishful sort of feeling that always overcame someone after leaving the event of the night. That small hope in one's mind when one walks back to the car or heads up the stairs home. Something was destined to happen. The night was never truly over.

Rukia always loved this feeling. It was the time that she felt most comfortable with herself. Like all her decisions throughout the day, no matter how asinine or intense, paved the way for this walk down the honey-illuminated street back home, back to her car, back to normalcy. Possibilities never seemed so exposed or up for grabs till that point.

Yet she couldn't help but feel weighted down by that feeling this time, like she ruined that precious vulnerability of the night with her own stupidity. For some reason, that upbeat anticipation was truly gone. She always felt like it was a reward after a hard day's night. It surprised her every time it came over her. She knew when she left the party or when the bar stopped serving, that the night was over and done, but that feeling always jolted her, caught her off guard in the best way possible. But not tonight.

This time, that anticipation of expecting something more wasn't going to happen. It was never going to happen because she knew in the bottom of her heart, where knowing things matter most, that this was it.

It wasn't just Ichigo that was wrong, she knew.

Seeing him again reminded her about what she used to be like, how she used to hope for other things in her life. Like when he asked her what she did for a living? What justification did she give him?

She could read him like a book. It took a bit to exercise that muscle, unused as it was, but the signs were there, weren't they? A worried scowl over some of her answers, a contemplative pause as if to ask more, or even a crooked eyebrow over an explanation. He seemed truly taken aback by her living arrangements here, almost regretting something.

Sure she had a place in Karakura, but she was hardly here throughout the year. Her stays were as infrequent and hodgepodge as prime numbers, and when she found herself huddled in her small abode, she never really had time to think about it all. Boxes still sat on he floor unopened and her wardrobe was still housed in suitcases. She used the same cup and plate when she came too; rinsing it off before she left, only to have it waiting for her in the sink when she unexpectedly arrived again.

Looking at it now, thinking about how Ichigo must see her, she really had to admit that somewhere, somehow down the line, she fucked up.

"Idiot," she reprimanded quietly, a smile gracing her lips. She gave another light shake of her head as another mental cringe came on, but it really was no use. The second she shook off another shudder: instances, dialog, everything came back from that meeting with the strawberry in the café.

Then again it just happened five minutes ago.

Still walking, she slipped each arm through the leather bounds of her coat sleeves, exchanging her purse to one hand then the other as she did so (she was nothing if not efficient). Confined, she hugged her elbows as she walked.

It's just…what did she think would happen exactly? That everything would be automatically hunky dory now that they saw each other and were—gasps!—speaking to each other? Words and everything!

For that few odd minutes she almost kidded herself into thinking that they were back to old times and on the same footing, but she knew, almost subconsciously, that that wasn't true.

Words may have been exchanged, but nothing was actually said. That underlying timidity was between them. She could tell that he played off of her own actions and words. He went as far as she was willing to let herself…so why the facade?

Time should've been enough of an excuse. Time of separation and time ticking away. There wasn't a later anymore. She shouldn't pretend that a later was still possible.

She was stupid to think that she could invite him to Byakuya's thing. Stupid to believe that they could just pick up where they left off as if all of that history never happened. Stupid for not having the courage to be upfront and tell him the truth about Shinji or ask about that debacle in the first place.

It was just very stupid.

"Idiot," she repeated to herself. "Remember what happened last time you tried to contact him?"

An image of that bar in New York flashed in her mind. For a split second she was there, and a surge of memories came flooding forth. Shinji's pitying face. Ichigo's happy one. The—

She felt her phone before the telephonic ring tone started playing, and she stopped to shuffle through her purse. Another bout of nostalgia successfully repressed.

It's just as well really, she thought, shoving a book, her wallet, and a compact aside in search for her Blackberry. The digitized version of Abba's _Fernando _began and she dug deeper in her bag to find it, following the song. Stupid giant purses. Everything she required on a daily basis rolled around the bottom of this stupid bag like soup, and she never could find anything on the first try.

The song grew in volume as the mobile was left ignored, and like she always did, Rukia hummed the song in her head as she searched.

_There was something in the air that night._

_The stars were bright, Fernan—_

Only—well she never found out exactly what happened did she? Why didn't he go through with it? At the time she felt like it was none of her business to ring him up after so long just to force his face into some bad news. She was engaged elsewhere at the time anyways, and they weren't closest of chums either, despite the occasional message via friend or e-mail (rare and infrequent as they were).

There were a few post cards too weren't there? She loved those postcards. Some she sent while on her travels. There were some that were never replied to and some she missed too, but they were used as an excuse to re-connect with one another. Although briefly.

And now?

Well, that was pretty obvious. Now, he didn't want anything to do with her. She noted how he took pains to tell her about his flight in the morning, how he made excuses to leave early, the feel of that handshake under the light. So final, so distant, so businesslike. It told her everything she was too scared to ask anyway.

Keeping her at arms length was all she was allowed now. Pity, really, because if she wasn't such an idiot in the first place, things might've turned out differently.

_It was shining there for you and me._

_For liberty!_

_Fernan—_

Finally grasping her phone, she accepted it without looking. Sighing she prepared herself for the string of curses or scolds from a certain red-haired baboon. "Hey Renji."

**xxxxx**

_Rukia Kuchiki was hot._

_Beads of sweat began forming along her hairline and she could feel the fabric of her thin, cotton t-shirt sticking to her back. The straps of her bra sticking to her shoulders and digging into her flesh. She hated being hot._

_Rows and rows of fresh kelly green soccer fields surrounded her; a nice, stark contrast against the strong, blue sky scattered with wispy clouds. Teams ranging from adults, to teenagers, to children, were around her playing. All the while, whistles blew and families cheered, while players cursed or shouted orders at one another. The sun wasn't very high in the sky and yet the air still hung over them dry and empty. Sweat started to gather under the bridge of her sunglasses and temples, and Rukia ran her finger over it._

_She hated being hot. Renji used to joke about how she seemed to grow in the winter, despite her shortness, and Rukia could only agree with him. About liking cold. She slapped him about the short comment._

_Her reason for being in this hell-like predicament was the baboon's doing anyway. She honestly had no interest in the games around her. She never considered herself a soccer aficionado anyways, and the only draw she had to the fields that afternoon was the red-haired player running in front of her._

_He waved as he saw her looking up, and she gave a halfhearted salute before wiping her brow with the back of her hand. For some odd reason, Renji kept inviting her to his matches, and she was beginning to feel bad for staving them off, especially since the move._

_Stretching the hairband from her left wrist, she pulled back her flat hair into a floppy bun and watched the players take their positions on the field. Safe behind her shades, she inspected each face carefully. She knew them, vaguely, but had no prior acquaintance with any of them. There was that bald guy who was good friends with that other guy with the feather in his hair. A questionable fashion choice, she thought. Then there was that blonde kid with the flank of hair dropped over an eye and worried expression. Rukia knew them instantly by their look but hardly knew anything about them themselves._

_Most of the players were Shinigami, including Renji, and apart from him, she hardly spoke to any of those other people while at the Academy. They were more of Renji's crowd. Some older, some from the advanced classes he took. Of course, she knew of them, like their names or possible gossip, but the intimacies really ended there._

_She hardly spoke to anyone at the Shinigami Academy when she was there, apart from Kaien and a few people in Ukitake's class, so her interest in the game was pretty lukewarm._

_In fact, she was paying more attention to the scribbled page of drawing paper in front of her, than the fact that one of their own was just deliberately tripped and a foul not called. Scattered across the surface were quick sketches of single players, the lines loose and curvy, suggesting motion and action. Though, if she was honest, she had to admit that she was pretty bad at it. Most of the figures she drew had mini tornados erupting from their legs or waists, an attempt to fix her previously mismarked swirls._

"_Hey Rukia!"_

_Rukia perked up from her place on the grass. She held her pencil aloft as she tried to pin prink the source of that voice. Turning her head this way and that, she scanned the crowds lounging in lawn chairs to the various soccer fields. Players moved in and out of her sight-line, their brightly colored jerseys throwing her off. Pushing her tortoishells over her head and using her hand as a visor, she studied the crowds of families lined up on the sidelines sitting in beach and camping chairs or standing by. Coolers and toddlers sat at their feet, and the players ran up and down the fields, shouting and bouncing on their heels. A few dogs ran by the sidelines, eyes intent on the hexagon covered ball._

"_Over here Rukia!" The voice came again. She gaged that it was coming from a few fields over and turned, immediately catching the source. She was very surprised that she didn't see it earlier._

_Orihime Inoue's auburn hair swished happily around the owner's back as the owner herself swayed happily toward Rukia, a wide smile on her face, despite the heat. Then again that always seemed to be her settled expression, that and open-mouth wonderment as if she was trying to solve some riddle only known to her. _

_Rukia waved back and watched as the girl made her way over. She took up the grass beside Rukia, before tucking her legs beneath each other and wiping the sweat gathering around her own temple._

"_Gosh," Orihime gasped, pulling a water bottle out of her purse. She unscrewed the cap and took a swig before wiping her mouth with her wrist, "It's hot today isn't it?"_

_Rukia murmured an agreement as she shoved her drawing pad intentionally face-down under her knees. If Orihime noticed, she was too polite to let on. Instead, Orihime smiled and tilted the top of the water towards her as an offer to share._

_Such a small gesture really, but it took Rukia by surprise._

_Orihime had a tendency to treat Rukia the same way a friend would, she knew. This water bottle was one of those things. If she were Tatsuki, she'd probably accept it._

_Looking down at the offered bottle, she shook her head._

"_So," Orihime continued, tossing the water to the grass, where it landed with a small thud. She turned to Rukia with that animation so natural to her. "What are you doing here?"_

"_Oh I'm a frequent soccer fanatic," Rukia replied without missing a beat. "Love of the game and all."_

_Orihime looked confused for a moment, and for that second, Rukia felt a little guilty for using sarcasm. Then the bubbly girl laughed, giggled really, and she turned to her happily. "Well I'm here because of Tatsuki." And she gestured with her thumb over her shoulder toward a few fields over. Rukia stretched her neck, and could spot the aggressive girl getting in an argument with the ref over a girl lying in the grass, grasping her ankle in an overly dramatic manner._

_Rukia's eyes focused back to the gray ones studying her intently. "So…um," Rukia stammered. "You don't play?"_

_That seemed to bring up another wide grin, and Orihime laughingly replied. "Oh no!" She looked at Tatsuki who was now being held back by the ref as the girl sauntered off the field, both legs in perfect tact. "They don't use baseball bats in this version."_

_Rukia's eyebrows arched, but she didn't press it. She assumed that Orihime was talking about that game her and the other girls played during free-time in gym. She never understood it herself, and Ichigo couldn't really tell her. But she knew that a soccer ball, the baseball field and a bat were somehow worked into that version._

"_I'm here for a friend too," she said instead and she vaguely pointed at the field she was bordering._

"_Oh?" Orihime asked. Everything she said always came out sounding extremely intrigued or excited, like whatever Rukia said was the most amazing statement ever. Most people would be annoyed with it, she knew, but for some reason, Rukia wasn't. "Which one?"_

_Rukia didn't need to take the time to study the faces on the uniformed bunch. She picked out the firetruck-red ponytail, and pointed. "Him. Number five. Renji Abarai."_

"_Him?" Rukia watched as Renji hocked a loogey. Classy._

_The eye roll was heard through her tone. "Yeah."_

"_Wow." Then he tried to hock one at his teammate, Hisagi or something. He had a 69 tatooed onto his cheek. Right._

"_Yeah," Rukia sighed a little used to that reaction from outsiders. By this time, Renji remembered that they were actually playing. "And apparently it's all natural." She added, allowing herself to laugh at her own smug, unfunny comment. When she didn't hear her neighbor let out that automatic giggle, she turned to look at her. "Orihime?"_

_Orihime was watching Renji, eyes wide. Well, her eyes were usually wide, but then again, some people were just surprised by Renji. He did look kind of menacing with those ridiculous tribal tattoos on his eyebrows. Two thick lines with a Y-crossing at the end. He threatened Rukia that that wasn't the end of it. She could only hope that that was. _

_Rukia laughed hollowly, more in an attempt to fight that awkward lull in the conversation than anything, and turned to gage a reaction from Orihime._

_To her surprise, Orihime was looking directly at her, her usual wide-eyed expression dimmed down to a more assessing look._

_She consciously pulled her hand to her shiny face. She became aware of the bead of sweat sliding down her back. Another wiping across her temple. "What?"_

"_Rukia…are you…I mean…?" Orihime's eyes switched back to the field leadingly._

"_OH GOD NO!" _

_That might have been louder than intended, if the curious and annoyed eyes turned to her direction were any indication. "I mean," she repaired. Her voice now whispering. "We're just friends. Best friends," she explained. "Since childhood. So no!—Yeah no!"_

_Orihime's face was back to her usual expression. "Oh, of course!" she trilled. "I always jump to conclusions like that," she excused rapidly. "Tatsuki-says-that-I'm-like-a-frog-or-something-because 'tmindme!—likewithyouandIchigo!I'msosilly—"_

_Rukia wiped her temple. "Orihime!"_

"_Yes?"_

"_It's fine," Rukia assured her. She outstretched her hands as if to keep the girl physically to the ground. "I got it."_

_Orihime smiled weakly before turning back towards the field. They watched in silence before Orihime made another observation. "They're from the Shinigami Academy aren't they?"_

_"Yeah," Rukia agreed, watching as Renji headed down the field. His teammates yelled directions to one another._

_For a moment, the two girls sat in silence, companionably watching the game before them. Rukia couldn't figure out how it was that she was sitting here with someone so embedded in her new life, while classmates from her previous one played before her. It was a little surreal to have these two worlds collide (if minimally so)._

_She watched someone score for the other team—uproarious cheers and applause impaired her hearing a bit, but she knew as clear as day what Orihime said. "Do you miss it Rukia?" And Rukia looked back up to see those gray eyes turned toward her again._

_Her question was so frank, so Orihime that Rukia felt taken aback for a second. _

_She'd been asked that question before from so many people, and Rukia was always quick to give her supply answer of "Yes, but Karakura's very nice and just takes getting used to." Cue polite smile and (if warranted) giggle. A line practiced and delivered to a T._

_But for some odd reason, she thought back to that offer to share water with Orihime. Such a small gesture, she knew, but it spoke volumes to her._

_Sagging, Rukia felt her t-shirt stick to her back. The heat off the sun blazed on her face and the grass stuck to her thighs. Orihime didn't press or force an answer. She just sat by and waited, which befuddled Rukia all the more._

_Usually, people would coax an answer out of her, and she would happily agree that she missed Shinigami Academy or that she was getting used to Karakura. This tactic meant that she never really had to make up her mind about her situation at all. With her being at Karakura High for two months, hardly anyone asked her about it anymore either. But here was Orihime, proving exception to it._

_Here she was sitting with her, acting friendly, sharing water, and all Rukia could do was become a little agitated. Because what did Orihime do but be nice to Rukia? She always invited her to lunch with the rest of the girls of their class and always waved to her in the hallways or out of the school in general. She was everything polite and unassumingly friendly, while Rukia was everything noncommittal and cold, whether she knew it or not._

_She felt bad about it. Everything Rukia did gave Orihime no headway in the pursuit of friendship—a normal, teenage girl would probably give up by now—and yet here she was. Here _they_ were next to each other, like friends would be under normal circumstances. The girl was even willing to share a bottle of water with her! For all she knew, Rukia could have herpes or a really bad cold or something._

_Then again, Orihime probably didn't care or it didn't cross her mind._

_Looking at Orihime's legs curled beside her, she decided then and there that if Orihime was willing to risk a few germs between them, then Rukia would be willing to share some back._

_She studied the players moving across the field before her and gave her answer some thought, more thought than she usually gave for other people. "Sometimes," she heard her reply honestly, watching her baboonish friend make a beeline for the goal—"But not really"—and miss. _

_Simply phrased really. All that built up for something so…easily said and yet Rukia felt like she just shared a secret with someone, like a weight was lifted off her chest._

_She never made a huge mark at the Shinigami Academy. The closest people she had were Kaien and a few kids in Ukitake's class. Most of her classmates treated her…well differently. Being a Kuchiki did that, and in retrospect she never fit into that position or in that school. _

_The Princess of Rukongai some people snickered under their breath but always in earshot. _

_"—Rukia?"_

_Rukia turned to Orihime. "Huh?"_

_The gray-eyed girl smiled at her apologetically. "You kinda zoned out there."_

_Rukia's face heated up, either from the damn heat or from the embarrassment of being caught off guard._

"_I do that all the time," Orihime assured her, taking another sip of water before wiping her mouth with her wrist._

_Rukia nodded, amused and watched as the girl next to her extended the bottle again. Rukia regarded her skeptically. It was an obvious extension of friendship._

_Then again, that's how Orihime had always treated Rukia—as if they were already the best of friends._

_She always invited her to hang out or to eat lunch. No questions or reservations at all. She lacked this at the Shinigami Academy. But, she always supposed it was because she never put in the effort to make friends either._

_She never truly belonged there did she?_

_She lacked the merit and skill which Renji used to get there, and she lacked the experience, the opportunity, and the money her Kuchiki name implied. She was there by chance really. By name and by family. Everyone knew it._

_Did she miss it? Maybe. Possibly. But she was tired of it. The toil and expectation of being a Kuchiki there was too much for her, despite her duty to her older brother._

_But she did miss parts of it. Room 13. The small acceptance. Her place in the art room. Ukitake. Kaien, if she was honest._

_It was all technically only a train ride away, but that still made it an entirely different world for her._

_Studying the girl offering her the plastic bottle, Rukia could tell that the expression on the girl's face was genuine and friendly. Something so rare for her at the Shinigami Academy._

_In fact, it always made her feel bad about not treating Orihime the same way. Hell knew that Rukia would never really share a water with some girl she barely knew, let alone greet them as friendly as Orihime always seemed to do._

_They were friends, she was beginning to see. Even if she didn't have a say in it._

_But that was just it. _

_She should have._

_Without a thought, Rukia accepted it, uncapping the bottle before taking a swig of the lukewarm liquid._

_She handed it back with a thanks and a smile, before she leaned back on her elbows to watch the game. Orihime followed suit. Now, properly situated, Rukia slid the sketchpad out from under her. Orihime didn't question it, only look on occasionally, which Rukia didn't mind at all._

**xxxxx**

"What did we learn about assume?" the female voice on the other end of the line trilled. It paused before sing-songing the answer. "It makes an ass out of yooouuu!"

Rukia bit back a smile at her surprise at the voice that greeted her. "And me," she added, picking up the familiar punch line between them. She swung her bag as she walked, a new lightness entering her step as the sound of the familiar, friendly voice was welcomed to her ears.

"Repetitive much aren't we?" the voice asked in mock consternation. "I already said you."

"It's the end of the saying," Rukia elaborated as she walked down the street, eyeing the metro station's signs in the distance. "Assume makes an ass out of you _and_ me."

"Pffft," the other end pouted. "That seems pretty unfair seeing as you're the one doing the assuming. I think I've hardly done anything to be called an ass."

"It's just a saying," Rukia rolled her eyes good-humouredly. She spotted the metro bridge situated over blocks of closed shops and unoccupied sidewalks. The odd straggler climbed the stairs to the trains or the odd drunk stumbled down them. "It's not like I'm calling your mother a whore."

The voice on the other gasped dramatically before giving a tingling laugh. "Do you speak to your brother with that mouth?"

"Rangiku," Rukia said, as she looked both ways before hopping the curb to cross the street. "There are curse words unknown to the urban dictionary that you've used plenty of times." She smiled as her friend on the other end laughed. "And you've used them in front of Byakuya."

"Hmmm," Rukia could picture her friend pursing her lips on the other end. She was probably twisting some of her long, wavy blond hair about her index finger, a habit that Rangiku knew made men stereotype her. She just took it as an advantage on her part. Right before she gutted them (figuratively of course). "That's true, but," Rangiku continued thoughtfully. "At least he doesn't know what I'm talking about."

"I'm sure he got the gist." Rukia replied, climbing the wrought iron staircase up towards the subway's deck. She rifled through her purse for her pass. The entire structure rattling as a train departed or arrived.

"I'm sure he wishes he did!" Rangiku laughed and Rukia cringed, knowing what was to follow. She transferred her mobile to the crook of her neck as she rifled past the book, her wallet, and the rest of the mess stewing at the bottom of her bag. She read the signs for the northbound trains and followed, her hand finally finding the thin, plastic pass she bought fresh that day.

"I said GIST! And can we please leave the sex-with-my-brother jokes out of this?" she struggled, righting herself and zipping up her purse. "It's getting a bit…"

"Interesting?" Rangiku piped up.

"Try vomit inducing." She suggested, swiping through the turnstile without getting her purse strap stuck, which she tended to.

"Rukia," Rangiku clucked reasonably, "it really isn't my fault that you have such a good looking older brother." Rukia would forever rue the day she brought her college roommate home to meet her immediate family. Neither party had been the same. While Byakuya's stoic embarrassment to Rangiku's overtly suggestive jokes were taken in proud strides, Rangiku's sex jokes about Rukia's nii-sama responded by increasing in regularity and vulgarity. She always did get a kick out of seeing either Kuchiki squirm.

But it was always in good fun, or so she assured Rukia when the short woman asked. Besides, had Rukia seen her brother? Sa-woon.

"Please stop," Rukia pleaded, her eyes now shut tight to block any images entering her mind. She made her way up the iron steps to the metro's waiting platform, the ground slightly vibrating beneath her as more trains departed and arrived, groups of people scurrying to board or descend. She eyed the numbers on the signs for directions. A few of them tagged with spray paint.

"That's funny," Rangiku pointed out. "That's like the opposite of what Byakuya said to me last—"

Rukia stopped dead in her tracks in the middle of the platform. "Rangiku!"

"Oh," Rangiku's voice lowered to what Rukia knew the buxom woman called her "bedroom" voice. The fact that Rukia knew that in the first place was a little alarming, but then again, she lived with that woman for two years. There were several times when she was locked out because of a sparkly scrunchy on the doorknob. "He said that too. Over and ove—"

"I'm hanging up now!" Rukia threatened, the phone held aloft. A few snotty teenagers standing near a row of movie posters eyed her mockingly, but she ignored them. Hopefully they didn't share the same destination.

"Okay! Okay I'll stop!" the woman laughed. At Rukia's silence, her mirth dwindled. The mocking teenagers shot glances over at her every once and awhile. Rukia couldn't help but akin them to wannabe Slim Shadys. Back in her day street cred was real, she thought angrily, eyeing their baggy name brands and bejeweled, oversized t-shirts. "Rukia?"

Rukia held the phone to her ear, silent, and watched as another train arrived at the platform and the thug-love teens ambled on, some too nonconformist to wait for the previous occupants to depart.

"Are you still there?"

One of them waved at her, blowing a kiss. She winced slightly. The rest of the group sitting nearby laughed uproariously. Obnoxious jerks. "I'm going to have to floss my brains later," Rukia allowed, "but yes."

"Good," Rangiku turned more serious. "Right. So, I actually have news for you!"

Rukia had to plug her other ear to hear better as the train started. A female automated voice told her to beware the sliding doors. "Yeah? If it deals with another you and Byakuya fake rendezvous then I'm sorry. I'm going to hang u—"

"Toshiro's in town," Rangiku quickly interrupted. The train swooshed by, creating a sweeping breeze down the cement platform, and Rukia felt a flank of hair hit the nape of her neck. Perfect.

"Is he?" She held her elbows in as the gush of wind continued while the rest of the train whizzed by, picking up the odd plastic bag or rolling a random Coke bottle down the platform. The entire bridge shook slightly as it departed. Her body even leaned slightly with the force.

"Yeah and he can meet with us tonight."

"Tonight? Why not tomorrow? Morning, if he's in such a hurry," Rukia assessed the logistics of meeting the tiny genius.

"Can't," Rangiku smacked. Judging from the loudness of the smack, Rukia took it for a fresh Double Bubble. She remembered finding wrappers all over their room back in college. "He actually wasn't going to meet us at all tonight. He's only doing it out of a favor to me."

"…why?"

"Why not?" Rangiku shot back. "We've known Hitsugaya since our Shinigami days. He'd be happy to help out."

Rukia sincerely doubted that. From what she remembered of Toshiro, Rangiku always put him down about not having gone through puberty before prom.

"I don't know…I mean I just…"

"Shit! I forgot," Rangiku interjected. "You're at that reunion right? We don't have to meet yet, not right now anyway. He has to go to this thing first, and he can meet us later before he has to leave to catch a red eye tomorrow. Stop by here later."

"Can't," Rukia sighed. "I have Kuchiki work to do." That explanation in itself, used over the years, several times, gave more information than anything could have.

Which explained Rangiku's query of, "Busy night then?"

Rukia stepped into the trained that just arrived. A woosh of air lifting the loose strands out of her face, and the automated voice telling her of her destination as she surveyed the seating choices. Mostly empty. "Yeah."

"Then you should stop by anyway," Rangiku suggested cheerily. Actually it was more of a command. Rangiku was rarely let down. Man, woman, vegetable. None was safe in her wake. "A nightcap might be just what you need."

Rukia held onto the bar of the subway car as it lurched into life. She stared out the plastic window, watching as the platform disappeared in an instant, only to be replaced alternatively by a twinkling city scape to darkness. Her eyes roamed the window, taking in the change of scenery before they noted the etched plastic of the window itself. More delinquent work, she assessed. Done with keys and other sharp objects to permanently leave a public message. Not that she was against graffiti. Rukia loved finding rebellious scrawl, and one of her good friends in Germany was a graffiti artists. It's just one would think that with such a stage the person would use it to make a mark on the world rather than using it to write _U B TRIPPIN _in bold, slanted script.

"HELLO! Rukia?" Rukia snapped to attention, her slackened grip on the pole tightening immediately. She refocused on the world outside she was swiftly passing by.

"Hmm?"

"Nightcap?" Rangiku prompted again, painfully patient.

Again she looked at the glass window opposite her. The night sky was dark enough of a backdrop to give her clear access to her reflection, and she noted her hair falling out of its knot and her bemused expression.

"Yeah," she saw this image of her reply. Her eyes fell back onto the graffiti and she tried to make sense of it. "That's exactly what I'll need later," she replied, staring at the scratched surface with unwarranted intensity. _U B TRIPPIN_ stood out clearer, newer than any of the others carved into the plastic, and Rukia read it to herself again and again. Chagrin made her smirk at that.

Okay, so maybe it was a worthy statement for the public.

**xxxxx**

The evening was proving to be anticlimactic as far as evenings went.

Then again, most tended to anyways, he reasoned.

There always was that mysterious promise in going out, actually leaving the house. You never knew where you would end up. Maybe at an after party, maybe back home, maybe even lucky.

Granted, with most evenings you might understand the beginning and general gist of the plot, but everything else was veiled, unknown despite the organization. Evening's were exotic because of that addition of expectation coupled with adrenaline. You could feed off of adrenaline, but expectation was mental, created by imagination, which is wherein the problem lies.

People always had these great expectations for them. As if, that extra bit of effort at their toilette or the mysteriousness of the place made a big difference, when, in the end, evenings were pretty predictable.

You always ended up going back home, tired. You always slipped your shoes off gratefully, sighing as you let the dogs breathe, too tired and too numb to actually considering finding new entertainment or finding something to eat. Television and sleep were your options by that point.

Of course there were some outliers. Like before going home you'd go out to the 24-hour diner with your friends or you'd make a pit stop for gas. You could break down on the side of the road or get lost on your way back.

Or, like now, you might be staring at a metal rack of junk food, deciding on which one would satiate your hunger more, torn in the dilemma of the century. The question not even Da Vinci would be able to answer.

Doritos or Cheetos?

That was right up there next to Hamlet's as he queried the skull.

Ichigo made a face at both bags, before stalking down the aisle, his phone angled against his ear. And propped by his shoulder. The young man sighed a weary sort of exhale, more like a half attempt at breathing. "I already apologized Tatsuki. What more do you want?"

"I want," the girl on the other end gritted out. Ichigo thanked the higher powers for not having him right next to her at the moment. "You to know that you never-NEVER-hang up on me!"

Ichigo stopped to assess the rack again. "Noted," he replied, scanning what they had to offer. Most were just variances on the classics (ie: spicy Doritos and flaming hot Cheetos). Variety was not really an option with potato chip franchise these days.

"Oh you don't know what noted means mister!"

Ichigo stopped and looked around, confused, and on the other end his silence made Tatsuki aware of it.

"That...sounded a lot better in my head," she admitted a good deal more calmer than her previous outrage, which had lasted Ichigo at least four blocks before he arrived here.

He continued walking down the aisle, dress shoes squeaking against the linoleum. "Right..."

"So," she continued brightly and a little more leadingly. "What are you two up to?"

Nothing, he wanted to say. There was no "two" of anything, unless he counted his choices in junk food. Since he and Rukia parted ways under that streetlight, he just walked. For a while really. He continued down the block until he realized that he had no earthly idea where he was anymore, and he had to look at the street signs for guidance.

That in itself was a wake up call, because he realized that the stores around him were new to him.

Nothing was familiar. And he called this place home!

His initial reaction was to phone someone. He reached for the mobile in his jacket pocket, when his coordinates hit him like...well something really hard (this writer's block was as bad as Shinji's extended similes: "You're as lost as a bear would be if the bear were as lost as you" he would probably say).

If Ichigo were a fan of the self-deprecating, he probably would have palm slapped his forehead as well.

Because of course! Of course he would only be a few blocks away from the Karakura Hotel, where this whole mess started. He walked a few blocks past it, towards some sort of convenience store still opened.

He was on his way toward this convenience store when Tatsuki called. Her voice was high and angry, she yelled at him for a good amount of time. Her voice so loud that he held the mobile away from his ear as he walked.

Although, at the same time, it was nice to have a voice to hold onto, as he covered slick pavement and waited at cross walks. Besides, Tatsuki's yell acted as some sort of buffer between him and his own thoughts of what had just happened.

They had their reunion. Who knew that that was ever going to happen?

And although he wasn't focusing on Tatsuki's words or actual expletives, he liked having something to anchor to as he walked. Sort of like having a television on while he worked. His mind had the unhealthiest habit of wandering off—

Pork grinds.

Ichigo stopped and turned to the rack again, this time he was struck.

Pork grinds was what he was going to eat.

The very name exuded manliness and testosterone. Not that he needed either at the moment. His manliness was very much in tact thank you very much. But something about looking at the clear, plastic bag on the shelf made one think about assertiveness, strength—and hell, he was just craving it.

Pork grinds was the snack Ichigo Kurosaki was meant to partake in. It reminded him of Shinji's attempt at celebrating the Superbowl back in New York.

The keyword obviously being attempt. Shinji's idea of American football meant buying all the various flavors of pork grinds, which there are surprisingly a good amount; getting bottles of beer; and ordering a new HD television. All this preparation so they could experience a quintessential American pastime, in theory.

In actuality, they talked through the actual game and watched the commercials, which were way more interesting, because they created a drinking game when every non-beer commercial came on. They discovered that pork grinds were perfect internal sponges when it came to alcohol consumption.

"Hulllloo?" his cell phone asked, interrupting yet another mindless tangent. "Ichigo?" it asked, the tone clearly belonging to an eye-rolling dojo enthusiast.

Ichigo focused more on that voice. "Yes?"

"What are you two up to?" Tatsuki repeated a little more peeved than before. Then, as if realization hit her, she hurried in a quieter tone. Not that it mattered anyway. "I'm not interrupting anything am I?"

No. She wasn't. "No. You're not."

"Then what are you up to?"

Nothing. "Nothing."

A harsh click of the tongue traveled through the air via satellite and into his ear. Edison invented the telephone, satellites were launched into outer space, a Nokia inspector gave the go ahead for his mobile, and Ichigo paid his bill on time so he could hear the woman on the other line's disapproval with clarity. "Ichigo. You're getting bad as Sado."

Huh? "What do you mean?"

More tongue clicks. "I mean that it's getting pretty difficult trying to get a word out of you. Where the hell are you?"

Ichigo picked up the clear plastic package as he spoke to her. "Convenience store a few blocks from the hotel."

"Which street?"

He told her.

"Okay," she supplied. "I'll be there in a sec."

He placed the bag back onto the rack. "Right." He prepared himself for the silence to come, the signal that she had finally hung up. Then—

"What are you doing there?"

He told her.

"Don't eat that!"

He didn't say anything, just waited for that dial tone. Then—

"Is Rukia with you?"

And he told her that too.

**xxxxx**

"_What is this?" He gripped the paper Urahara handed to him. He slumped in his seat as the teacher returned to his desk chair and read over offered flier: _

_A summer study program for high schoolers_

_Taught by college professors from Tokyo_

_**Governor's Advanced Program**_

"'_Where today's students can become tomorrow's leaders," Ichigo read in a fake cheery voice. He slid it onto the desk top, spinning it with his finger. "Is that really the best they come up with?" he chuckled, re reading the cheesy slogan._

"_Hey-hey!" Urahara exclaimed, waving his arms around as if physically stop Ichigo's growing disdain. "That, young grasshopper," Urahara said the title with exaggerated condescension "is one of the best advanced programs out there for kids such as yourself. Don't knock it till you tried it."_

_Ichigo frowned, leaning towards Urahara's desk. "And you want me to…?"_

_Urahara walked up, snatched the flier out of the young man's hands, rudely because Urahara knew it would irritate the young man so much, and sat back down. "The program isn't as easy as you're making it out to be," he said tetchily. "We're lucky to get at least a student in if anything, and it looks great for your university application," he looked up. "Every child I sent in here has gotten into their dream school."_

_Ichigo scoffed at that last bit, rolling his eyes for good measure. "Urahara, I'm glad that you've taken some interest in me with the writing and everything, but is this really—?"_

"_You haven't thought about it at all have you?" the older man asked, not really listening to the semi-thank you Ichigo just gave him._

_Ichigo, who was still in the middle of a sentence stopped, waiting for the teacher to get on with it._

"_College," Urahara elaborated, reading the boy's blank expression. "Don't be an idiot."_

"_It's not really a priority right now," Ichigo hedged, feeling dumber and more behind now that this was brought to surface. "I've got a year or so before I start thinking about it."_

"_It's never too early to start thinking about it," Urahara made his way to the front of his desk where and seated himself on the corner, looking at Ichigo seated in front row and center. "And I'll be honest, you're probably not going to get into this program. Ah-ah—" he held up a halting hand at Ichigo's growing scornful expression. "It's not you. You've got your grade against you. The program is open for everyone, but they tend to accept third years. Your chances when you're a third year are better because you're closer to applying for college._

"_We just try to get some students started early to prepare you for next year." Ichigo seemed unconvinced and sat back in a lounging sort of way._

"_Look, apply or don't apply," Urahara grumped. "It's up to you really. I'm not your mother or anything. I won't force you to do something, which is clearly for your own good. I'm just asking you to consider it." He walked back behind his desk, taking the seat and picking up Benihime to resume his grading, not looking up at the lone pupil in his classroom._

_Ichigo watched as the man before began to read over the stack of essays on his desk, watching as his eyes scanned the page with hawk-like intensity before zeroing in on fragments and passive voice._

_He picked up his bag sitting next to his feet. His sneakers gave a slight squeak against the linoleum and the metal of his chair grated as he pushed it back in. Walking past Urahara's desk, he picked up the flier again._

_Students entered into the program will have the opportunity to focus on two subjects, including:_

_Math_

_Business_

_History_

_Computer Sciences_

_Art_

_English_

_Ichigo looked over his shoulder back at the bucket hat wearing adult. "'Where today's students can become tomorrow's leaders' huh?"_

_Beneath the shade of the brim, he could make out the smile and the upturning of the raccoon eyes. Pen still touching paper. "Can you think of anything better?"_

_Ichigo looked up, chewing his inner cheek in thought, when it came to him, he looked at his teacher, a laugh escaping somewhat as he said: "Where today's students can become tomorrow's leaders. Fall into the GAP." He chuckled at Urahara's expression. "That's Geee— Ayyy—"_

"_Ay—Pee," his mentor finished off. "Clever." He scratched off a horrible paragraph on one paper and didn't look up. "See what you can make of the application first."_

"_Fine." He folded up the sheet and pocketed it._

"_And there's an interview you have to do."_

"_Right."_

"_And…"_

"_Oh what now Hat-and-Clogs?"_

"_What? You're so annoying. Here I am trying to help you!"_

"_Sorry." In a calmer, rational voice. "When's this all due?"_

_Urahara told him. _

"_And the interview is when?"_

_Urahara told him about the process, where they would interview, who conducted it, and when it was._

"_And—"_

"_Ichigo I'll see you later," Urahara interrupted. His voice clipped and short. "Let me grade."_

"_Right—it's just—" _

_Urahara told him no._

"_Hat and clogs."_

_Urahara told him to leave._

"_Aren't you going to tell me good luck?" the boy asked._

_And Urahra told him that too._

**xxxxx**

He held the pork grinds in one hand, eyeing the facts and figures on the back as if he were making a wise and informative purchase, which he would be if he had any idea what those percentages and words really meant towards consumption. He remembered going over this in high school health class, but once the test passed, the knowledge really didn't stick.

Ichigo pulled his mobile out of his pocket again and scrolled to the S's until he found the right name. Pulling it up on screen, he looked at the idiotic picture of his friend on a four a.m. run at the local diner. He was sticking out his tongue, syrup drooling from the corner of his mouth, his eyes crossed.

When the actual photo was taken was a mystery. There were countless of after-midnight runs to said diner, mostly because it was cheap and entirely because it was still open at that hour. Ichigo never really liked the place per se. The floors were always wet, the tables sticky, the entire establishment cold, but it was made for those late, late nights after drinking or carousing with friends. It gave that finality to the evening.

Besides the food was at least half decent. Just thinking about the warm buttermilk pancakes and greasy bacon brought Ichigo back to the task at hand, which was finding dinner.

The answer was simple really. All he had to do was grab a riceball from the back or head home for Yuzu's leftovers, which always rewarmed well in the microwave. But he didn't feel like any of that.

The thought of returning home after everything that had just happened seemed rather unsatisfying.

Going home would be sealing the night into an airtight ending, and if Ichigo was being honest with himself, he wasn't ready for that just yet.

Looking back at his mobile's screen, he checked Shinji's highlighted name as his thumb hovered over the send key. But before his eyes, a certain, annoying friend's number and stock image interrupted his screen.

Without missing a beat, he approved the call. "Hello?"

"Why do you sound so surprised every time you answer the phone?"

**xxxxx**

"_Guess who!"_

"_You do know that I have caller ID right?" he asked, shouldering the phone and putting up their newly bought cereal into the cupboards. Isshin was adamantly against getting the new device at the beginning, preferring a surprise before he answered the phone, but the children insisted; especially after Yuzu had to lie (which she was not good at) to yet another telemarketer that no, Isshin Kurosaki was not at home (though he was standing right in front of her eating a doughnut at the time), and said telemarketer told her to tell her parents not to teach her how to be dishonest._

"_Right…"_

_Sigh. "What do you want Rukia?" He grabbed the milk and made his way over to the fridge._

"_Is that how you always answer your phone Ichigo?"_

_Shuffling the fridges contents, he made room for the gallon. "Again. What is it that you want?"_

_Again his question went unanswered. "It's so weird to have caller ID no don't you think?"_

"_Not really," he admitted, shoving everything in tightly and pushing the door closed with a soft muffle from the rubber cushioning and a rattle from the top, where Yuzu kept the extra glass baking dishes._

"_No. Just listen to me for a second." He looked at the end call button enticing him. "Just maybe five years ago we didn't have the capacity to know who was on the other end of the line! I always had to answer the phone and now I can decide when and who I want to talk to, let alone—"_

_Impatiently. "Rukia."_

"_Ichigo," she repeated. Deadpanned. "Aren't you equally amazed?"_

_He was kicking up the empty plastic grocery bags from the floor, catching them before they drifted back down to his feet. "Not really."_

"_Oh."_

"_Ahem." _

"_Hmm?"_

_He tossed the empty plastics into their proper place and looked around the kitchen. "Did you call me for a reason Rukia?"_

"_What?" She asked a little testily. "Do I need a reason to call you?"_

_Sigh. He walked over to the fridge to pop open a soda. "Yeah."_

_He could hear the ticked off tone, felt the glared daggers all the way through the phone. "What? I haven't seen you in a while. Can't I just ask how are you?"_

_He held the phone with one hand as he drank. "I'm fine."_

…

_Refreshed. "You?"_

"_Good." She replied back just as short._

"_Great." He wiped his mouth with the sleeve on his elbow._

"_Yup."_

"_Hmmm."_

"_Okay. Well," her voice growing ironically chipper, "see you later!"_

"_Bye." He held the phone away._

"_Oh and Ichigo?" He brought the phone back._

"_Hmm?"_

"_I'm glad we talked," she said a little reluctantly kind, more sweetly sour of her._

_He rolled his eyes. "Rukia."_

"_Hmmm?"_

"_I am equally amazed by caller ID," he sighed, pulling out a chair at the table._

_An intake of breath, a smile heard over the line. An accusing voice from the midget. "I knew you knew it was me."_

"_You knew I'd answer," he said simply, taking a seat. "So what's up? Where've ya been?"_

**xxxxx**

Rukia was in Seiretei.

The white pressure washed sidewalks and general unpolluted streets were key characteristics of uptown Karakura. Sales tax up here was about one percent more than in the center of the city, and it was probably this reason that gave this district an air of unearned superiority. This was where many of the posher legal offices resided, and once, Oprah ate at the sushi and steak house a couple of blocks from their high school. The place saw a business increase of nearly sixty-six percent since that supposed visit.

Back in the day, this part of Karakura was smaller. Still in the top of the percentile rank, but quainter. And thanks to business booms of several upstarts, Byakuya's included, this part of Karakura grew over night. Businesses attracted more businesses, which attracted more housing, which attracted more businesses. In recent years, meaning about eight or so years ago, the train system began making direct stops, making it a clear destination rather than wasting time switching trains or transferring buses. More stops were built too, which would've been helpful when Rukia was in high school (transferring probably would've been unnecessary for her then). Perhaps because of the ease of transportation, more and more businesses grew out of it and more people came over.

But upper Karakura, which everyone called Seiretei, still maintained its pristine quality. Everything was sleek lines, shiny glass windows, and wrought iron fences round trees. People curbed their dogs, or paid people to anyway, and some really large houses even had acres of grass and woods to consider (but those were in the periphery of the district).

Seiretei was built around an already existing portion of Karakura, so all the extra construction when new homes and buildings went up meant that a lot of the streets came out winding and confusing. It wasn't a grid per se. More like a maze if one was unfamiliar with the area, which didn't help much with tourism. Although Execution Hill, one of the highest peaks in the district and named for historic purposes, did attract a good many into the city around summer. From where Rukia stood, she could make out the peak of the butte in the distance.

Right now, though, she was more concerned about getting there before Renji exploded. He already blew up her phone because of the four texts and three calls. Down probably five or so blocks was the Shinigami Academy and about eight blocks from there was Byakuya's penthouse, which was where she was off to now. Byakuya promoted the business being a family run affair and hosting a business event at the house only upheld that notion.

Exhaling, she corrected her posture and headed towards her other alma mater, then home.

Now, coming home might mean a lot of things to a lot of different people. Hell, most of those people probably came home for vacation or relaxation, but Rukia knew better. Whereas some families planned trips or reunions, the Kuchikis made business meetings and conferences; and whereas most families had game nights or went out to eat dinner, Kuchikis had mergers and deals. A return to Karakura was just another pit stop for the family business.

Make that family corporation. Because legacy companies like the Kuchikis' weren't mere trifles to turn one's nose at.

Besides running one of the most successful international insurance companies—they were a humble family running a business—filled with expectations and rules and order. Things which Rukia, upon her adoptment into the grand family, was raised and expected to follow. So when head of the family (read as CEO of the company) Byakuya Kuchiki requested your presence back "home" (read as company headquarters), then you hauled ass to the nearest airport and bought yourself a ticket STAT.

She remembered growing up in the foster home with Renji and the others, and how she desperately wanted a real family of her own with caring parents and maybe even squabbling siblings. She may have watched too much TVland, particularly _The Waltons_, while growing up, but here she was now. She was part of one of the Top 20 most influential family-run companies according to Forbes.

She wanted family and she got more than she bargained for.

The whole walk from the underground to the block she knew so well was spent attempting to prepare herself mentally and physically.

Knowing Renji in business mode, he was probably keeping a close eye at the door and wouldn't give her time to go powder her nose properly. It might be because he was panicked about the whole deal in the first place or it might be an act of revenge for keeping him waiting for so long.

She plucked the few Bobbi pins out of her hair, holding them between her teeth as she worked the loose chignon out, using her fingers to detangle the twists and knots her hair managed to end up in. She swatted a small bang that fell in the middle of her face and shook her mane out like exhaling air. If she concentrated she could feel her scalp relax, her updo no longer pulling her skin back. It was almost relaxing rather than thinking about the task at hand.

Besides, she thought with a scoff, the deal wasn't such a big, well for lack of a better word, deal. Renji was just a ginormous worrywart sometimes.

Hell, his entire bad-assness was just a front really. Past the wild red hair, the tribal tattoos peaking into his hairline, and toothy grin, Renji Abarai was every bit the concerned, over-thinking businessman who wanted to impress Byakuya Kuchiki. That certainly wasn't a surprise, having grown up with him through the more developing years. Renji always sought to compare himself to the best, and he was motivated that was for sure, but for what? That promotion at the end of the tunnel? That good job pat on the shoulder from the man himself?

Kinks gone, she began coiling her hair back to the nape of her neck, carefully pinning stray strands back into place, and finishing with the bang just hanging between her eyes.

This deal with the Kasumiōji Group had his panties in a twist ever since Byakuya decided that they would arrange everything in Karakura, otherwise known as Renji's division.

When Renji picked her up at the airport yesterday, he immediately went to business: handing her a rubber banded wad of files and reiterating the itinerary for the evening like she hadn't received a thick info packet messengered over before her flight. There was a note attached to it asking her to read it on her ride over. It was obviously Renji's writing faxed over from dear Karakura.

"Oh I ran into Orihime," he had said, following a bout of easy silence, while switching lanes quickly. Rukia held fast onto the handle bar near the car's window as the entire vehicle swayed in a controlled manner.

"Oh yeah?" she managed as he sped up in a race against a semi. Renji appeared to be the only one who was racing that is.

"Yeah," he continued, flicking his eyes behind him before changing lanes again. Rukia groaned. "She asked about you actually."

Rukia stared out the windshield, feeling Renji's eyes on her for a split second before he simultaneously scrolled through his iPod to change the song and switched lanes yet again.

"Quit it you ass!"

He shrugged and threw the player into her lap before focusing back onto the road. "Aren't you curious as to what she wanted?" He tossed the chord attached to the car's radio as well, detangling himself in the process.

Rukia picked up the device with both hands and began thumbing through the songs. "I have a fairly good idea of what she wants—You've got a lot of Britney Spears in here Renji. I mean, all of her albums?"

Renji scowled at the road ahead. "Quit changing the subject."

"Me? We need to talk about widening your musical horizons!"

"They're very widened thank you very much."

"Really?" Rukia went on in disbelief. She held the screen towards him as if to prove her point. "Because second to Britney, you've got an awful lot of Carpenters. Now I have nothing against either, but when it consists of a majority of your iPod, I think that—"

"She said something about a reunion for Karakura High School," he said sternly in an effort to change the subject. Rukia could see his fingers tense on the steering wheel. She also noticed that he stopped his stupid, erratic lane changing.

"Oh?" was all she could manage. She thought about the invite thrown into the bottom of her waste bin back in London before she had left Germany.

"Yeah," Renji said. This time she caught him when he turned to her for a fraction of a second—"Keep your eyes on the road you fool!" she reprimanded—before he turned back to face the highway. "I didn't know that that was going on…"

Rukia shrugged, pulling her sunglasses that were perched onto her forehead down. After about ten minutes, Renji said nothing, and she realized that he was actually waiting for a reply. "I mean," she began, she turned her whole body to face him, tucking her legs under her knees and hands still clutching the musical device. Renji eyed her shoes on his leather upholstery a bit warily but said nothing. Like the excellent friend she was, she kicked off her sandals with minimal eye-roll.

"Thank you," he smirked.

She retuned a cheesy one right back. "Whatever."

He quickly faced her again, allowing a van to cut him off rather abruptly. In this rare case, he didn't punch his horn, like he was wont to do at the slightest provocation, like when a car in front of him would stop for a squirrel. "Rukia?" He called out, facing the road again but tilting his chin towards her.

Rukia was looking over her shoulder, out her own window now. The bright afternoon sun set a glare off the shiny chrome from other cars and from the waves hitting the water below the bridge. She remembered this bridge and this river. She had countless amounts of sketches of both, having spent countless hours at the rivers' edge. They were almost in the heart of Karakura.

"Reunions are for people who have something new to share," she felt herself saying. Years of comfort and practice let her pour her heart out so shamelessly. However, despite the fact that they were childhood friends, years of separation and her position and rearing as a Kuchiki for all those years prevented her from being so candid, even with Renji.

Renji scoffed. "You've done plenty Rukia," he reminded her. "You've traveled the world, bumped heads with some of the richest men in Europe, opened that art program. You should be proud of yourself."

Rukia smiled at his efforts, but he noticed that it was strained. "Yes, of course," she agreed all too readily.

Renji was about the prod, when her entire demeanor changed. Rukia sat up straighter and turning her body to face forward, she hit the play button on his iPod before sticking it into a nearby cup holder. The familiar strains of the song put a smile on Renji's lips, all the while wondering what prompted the song choice.

_Oh baby, baby  
Oh baby, baby Oh baby, baby  
How was I supposed to know?  
That something wasn't right here?_

She leaned over and raised the volume, drowning out the obvious silence, before turning her body the other direction to roll down her window. A rush of wind streamed past her, whipping her hair every which way.

"You know," Renji interrupted, lowering the volume with the buttons on his steering wheel. She eyed him resentfully. "I never got an invite for this reunion shindig."

Rukia peered at him over her specs. "You know? I'm pretty sure that you have had to attend Karakura High longer than a semester."

Renji chewed on this thought. "I guess…" he conceded, then as if just occurring to him. "Hold on! You were practically in both high schools the same amount of time! What does that make you?"

Rukia shrugged again. "Special?"

"A cheater," Renji corrected.

Rukia did her best not to gape. "Is it my fault that I had a weird moving schedule?"

"No," he allowed, "but it was your fault that you were expelled that first time," he pointed out. "And didn't you decide to go back for senior year?"

She decided not to deign that with a response.

"My point," Renji went on a little exasperatedly. "is that you are just as sentimental as everyone else.." He gave a weird guffaw. "You'll probably end up going to that reunion."

Rukia pursed her lips, preparing for battle.

"Aw, don't start Rukia," he shot a sideways glance at her. "We both know you're going."

"You're just jealous that you weren't even invited," she informed him. She turned to face the window ahead as she pulled her arms in front of her chest like a petulant child. "Besides you're wrong." She gave a kick to the mammoth sized folder at her feet. "There's way too much crap to do."

Renji nodded along, finally entering the city. "Of course."

"I can't possibly go tonight."

"Right."

She pushed her sunglasses over her face, back into a makeshift headband. "Will you please turn the volume back up?"

Renji reached over and turned the dial as he turned onto her street.

_Show me how you want it to be_

_Tell me baby_

'_cause I need to know now_

_Oh—because—_

_My loneliness is killing me _

_(and I)_

_I must confess. I still believe_

_(still believe)_

Rukia arrived at the house. She stopped short of the glass door of the modern building, and instead looked up. Her eyes slowly rising up towards the penthouse where she knew the party was taking place.

She could hear the clink of glasses and polite, tinkly party laughs. Music wafted down to her. It was something snazzy, something deep and golden. She could picture the scene already. The people dressed to the nines, the waiters gliding about unnoticed, and Renji running around with a smile plastered on for the guests but writhing inside in agony. He was the mastermind of this shindig.

She sighed, clutching the strap to her orange purse with one hand while pulling a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She didn't get to see her handiwork for herself, but it felt fine. Exhaling again, she took a step towards the door and immediately a doorman came to hold it open for her. She gave him a smile, then waved to the security officer at the desk, who knew her on sight, and entered the elevator, pressing the PH button with some trepidation.

Rukia watched the lights change above the door. Each floor number glowing as she passed it. Her elevator didn't meet with any pit stops on its way up to the top. The _ping_ for each floor they passed happening in quick succession of the other. Or was it just her thinking it?

As the last ping sounded, her stomach dropped and she inhaled through her nose and exhaled through her mouth like her Yoga DVDs instructed her as a way of relieving stress or, in this case, nerves.

The doors slid open and immediately the same music she heard down below greeted her in a louder volume. She watched the people before her, comparing it to the image in her own mind before she ascended those steps.

It was even better actually. Posher, livelier, and more than anything than Rukia could've come up with. Mentally, she gave out a low, impressive whistle for her friend's skill.

The entire penthouse was transformed that for a second she couldn't believe that people actually lived here. None of the furniture was moved around actually and past the glitz of the party, she could make out the living room where she liked to watch Bob Ross on PBS and the chair she liked to read in when the sun was coming through the window. Waiters moved around effortlessly through the crowd and food was laid out around the dining room. She knew the kitchen had an entire staff cranking hour hors d'oeuvres. There were flowers too. They sat in glass vases around the stairs, on tables, and on sills. They were cherry blossoms. A nice touch on Renji's part because they were the Byakuya's favorite—yes the tough man had a favorite flower—and were the logo for the company.

What was more surprising, although she was prepared for it, was that people mingled everywhere. From her spot at the door she could see some even outside the balcony, holding flutes of champagne or classy bottles of beer, and the space was wide enough to encourage a small congregation of dancing near stairs. Then she noticed what everyone was wearing. Her leather biker's jacket seemed inappropriate and her heels didn't seem high enough, her hair not done properly.

As if reading her thoughts, someone came up to take her coat and she handed it to him wordlessly, taking the step further in. In seconds she spotted the red hair and the fake eyebrows.

Feeling her eyes on him, they connected over the heads of the other guests. He smiled, gesturing around the entire scene, an excited look on his face. She responded by giving a nod and a cheesy thumbs up, she knew he'd laugh at. He did and made his excuses to the people around him to come to her.

Same Renji, she couldn't help but think as she waited for him. Always reaching higher than she could always see.

**xxxxx**

_It was the eve of their first day of high school._

_There was a lazy attitude about the house all day, almost reverential in how one made breakfast to how one watched television, because they both knew that after today, everything was immediately different._

_They were both set for the Shinigami Academy, one of the most prestigious private schools in the city. Politicians, big wigs, and CEOs sent their children to the Shinigami Academy for a well-rounded education that would prepare their offspring for the demands and expectations of universities. Students would be in an environment focused on learning, and they would be surrounded by people their own age with the same academic goals in mind, the same hormonal needs, and the same pompous self-serving mindset instilled in them since birth, or so the pamphlet said (more or less)._

_Rukia laid her black uniform on her quilted bed, smoothing out the creases with careful, trembling hands. Kids who went to the Shinigami Academy were destined for university, destined for a life filled with pride and goals. It all meant something, she knew. Ungrateful as it was, she chose to not dwell on it though._

_She turned to face her wall. Excuse that, she referred to it with a capital letter. Her Wall._

_It was the only thing in her room that was left unpacked. To an outsider, the room appeared to be reserved for guests: the quilt on the twin mattress sitting on a box spring, the yellow walls bare of any ornament, the naked dresser top. This was perhaps the longest stay she had in one of her foster homes. Hell, she could almost call it a home really._

_While she was living there, the walls were covered in sketches, drawings, and paintings from all over her grades and different ages (an evolution of art before her eyes) that traveled with her; and over the years, she started adding post cards from the odd trip to the museum in Seiretei to cut outs from newspapers and magazines. It took her ages to take it down. She was almost too nostalgic to rip down the aged, yellowed pages, but she left the entire collage the last to pack, taking a piece down to study more closely, and then staring at the wall as a whole as piece after piece was taken down and either kept or thrown away. The process took ages and as paper after paper was removed, the more she began to realize how much of a pack rat she was and how much she was giving up._

_Would she be able to set up a new collage in her new home? Would the primary colored thumb tacks be allowed in the hallowed walls of her new home. So alien. So lonely this new adventure seemed._

_Another twin sat, pushed against the far wall from lack of use. There weren't many girls in this foster home, and if one did pop up, they were usually picked quick by respectable couples and nice families. No, instead, Rukia grew up with the boys living in the room adjacent to hers. Though they shuffled a bit, and moved to different houses, they were essentially in the same area. They did their best to stay close. They were the ones who stayed the longest in her life after all._

_Her duffle and a large box filled with her few possessions sat near the bedroom door, waiting for the inevitable trip to a new life, a new family. A new world so foreign to how she grew up. In her first meeting with Byakuya she knew that his world didn't deal with rowdy boys, loud and dusty streets, or even afterschool jobs. He probably didn't understand unfairness and inequality. Byakuya's world was comfortable and answered to one's needs, whereas Rukia's revolved around constant trepidation and false hopes._

_Too many times, she met a nice couple or a prospective family, and too many times she unwittingly let her expectations rise at the opportunity. They were nice enough people, making jokes and enjoying her drawings as much as the last group, but that was just it: she grew to learn that they followed a stiff pattern of politeness with her. That when groups were so shallowly formal it meant that she wasn't the one they sought for, the one they wanted. Selecting a child from a catalog gave them the impression of a perfect match, an ideal progeny, which wasn't left to chance or heredity. And yet deep down, she couldn't help but grow exited after their visit, after each visit of each couple. Not to misunderstand, rejection did take its toll, but Rukia, the positive young thing she was, refused to take it, or maybe it swelled up down somewhere, lurking, waiting for the last drop of refusal to make a complete blow out. And maybe in her darker, more depressed moods, the waves of rejections hit her with such force that Rukia had no idea or experience in dealing with it, so down it went again to be squeezed back, hidden. Although, it had a tendency to comeback when any unhappy thing crossed her path or another rejection came. The older she got, her chances dropped dramatically. She wasn't the age range to mold a child to one's tastes, and she definitely didn't have that cute factor anymore. Luck just wasn't on her side or so she thought, and it wasn't the couples' fault, she reasoned. The couples she met obviously didn't find her compatible, but she knew when she stepped into the dining room that morning that Byakuya was different. _

_He treated the whole interaction like a business transaction, so formal, so rigid. Most prospective adoptioners were keen on introducing themselves, giving personal opinions on their own personality, but not Byakuya. She didn't need to introduce herself or share much about her hobbies or favorite television shows, which most couples used as small talk. Rather, he wanted to know what she knew of herself and what she saw herself doing in the future. It all felt like one of those essays teachers asked one to write at the beginning or end of class. But what Rukia noticed as she revealed her meager personal history was how through all the questions and statements, from the manner of his actions to how he spoke, he behaved in such a way that led her to believe that this meeting was a done deal. Later on, she would realize that that was how Byakyuya treated all business transactions._

_She toyed with the sleeve of the jacket, twisting it around her fingers, before plopping down to sit next to it, her bed springs creaking under her light weight. The wooden headboard shook faintly. She looked up at the slightly swaying ceiling fan, which kept a steady sound rhythm as it oscillated._

_In one of the homes with lower ceiling fans, she used to draw pictures and tape them to the fan blades, enjoying the flap and swish of the paper as the fan came to life. She had experimented with different colors and continuous shapes and designs, playing with the idea of a story as well. A small, rotating gallery of sorts. But now, the fan blades were too high to reach, bare, and simply keeping up with its normal occupation._

_She had this view for years and here she was leaving it. Finally. Funnily, actually, because she never thought that this day would come. A day she hoped and feared for as long as she can remember. That stupid, clichéd saying came to mind: be careful what you wish for. It sounded like an afterschool special kind of moral. There actually was an _Are You Afraid of the Dark _episode with that moral. It didn't end well._

_Soundlessly, she fell onto her back, her feet still swaying over the side of the mattress._

"_You ready?"_

_She didn't need to look up to see that it was Renji standing at her doorway. Thinking she missed it, he repeated the question._

_No. "Yeah. Just finished packing."_

"_It's really great y'know?" he said after she didn't say anything but watched her ceiling with utter fascination. She was really going to miss this noisy fan. "I mean," she heard him take another step into her room. The old wood beneath the worn down carpet groaned slightly. "It's the Kuchikis." He said the name with such awe-struck reverence; Rukia inclined her head to look at him._

_Taking this for a good sign, he crossed the room and sat on her bed, right next to her. The mattress depressed under his weight. "This is a great opportunity Rukia," he continued. "We'll be able to go to the same school this year." Here Rukia gave him a soft smile. Yes, they were going to go to the same school now, but how they ended up there was entirely different. Whereas Renji worked his way to gain a scholarship and to get the grades to get him there, Rukia simply had to become part of the right family. She found his hand resting on the bed cover near her thigh._

_Through no action on her own part, she was given the same reward, and she watched as Renji acted as if this were natural. He went on to name the positives: the prestige, the honor, the classes. To Renji this was a step towards his goal of getting out of Rukongai, the slums they lived in and knew so well._

_Rukia couldn't even fathom a world outside of this one. The Shinigami Academy, the Kuchikis, those were only fantasies dreamt up by the likes of Renji, hopefuls who needed something to actually aspire to, because, if she was honest with herself, Rukia was happy here. Rejection after rejection taught her that._

_She loved her boys growing up. How they grew up in near poverty and how they managed to stick with each other through scrapes around Rukongai. They were her family. It didn't take years for her to realize it. She knew it the moment she came into the house, the moment they gave her a handful of sticky, sweet candy to share, before she intervened in an older kid bullying one of the younger ones. She liked to think she was diplomatic even as a child._

_Perhaps naively, she never expected their family to be torn apart by adoptions, age, and even deaths. No one said Rukongai was the easiest place to grow up. The area they were from was nicknamed Hanging Dog for a reason (man's best friend just didn't exist here). Boys she loved and grew up with, brothers, fell into improper groups, fell away from their family. Slowly, replacements came; boys she didn't know, and over time, after a few repeats of the cycle, Rukia came to learn to distance herself from the newbie's, the scared, young creatures that they were. Cordiality and kindness were what they deserved and as far as they would receive from her, because they weren't the same. She would give anything to see her old family again._

_It was only when it was she and Renji left of the original foster kids, did she turn to him one evening, eyes shining with held back tears, and asked if they would ever leave._

"_Of course," he assured her, allowing her head to rest on his shoulder as they sat on the rickety back porch one night. It was a rare moment of weakness for her, and Renji thrilled a little to be a part of it. "We're meant for so much more than this Rukia," he had said confidently._

_The next day, Rukia saw the applications for the Shinigami Academy. Renji eventually won a scholarship, and Rukia didn't. Renji did his best to support her, promising visits and telling her that he wouldn't miss much, when they both knew that what he was saying was just salve over a wound. Then, Rukia became adopted into the Kuchiki clan, and Renji didn't. They both got into the school they planned on. And everything Renji had said to make Rukia feel better before were proven unstable and false, though they never acknowledged it properly. _

"_This is what we were hoping for," Renji said gleefully some moments later; so content were they in just being in one other's company. Rukia eyed her bag and box by the door, reminding herself about this momentous change looming over her, but rather than focusing on that, she placed her attention entirely on Renji, who cheerfully went on to recount the positives of the entire thing._

_Through all their years together and yet he remained by her side, understanding her sadness better than she knew already. He was always in the background for her. When she first met him, he was in the periphery of her life. He stood out of course, labeled the show-off, the leader. He seemed to sense her apartness from the rest of the boys, taking care that she was still treated like a girl, which was used so often as a curse word that Rukia began to hate it. The other boys treated her the same as they would if she was a boy, roughing her up, noogies, and fart jokes galore, but Renji had some sort of respectful way of treating her. He allowed her her space when needed or comfort when he sensed it. He didn't back down from feelings or tears like the other boys did (and there were plenty of those when puberty hit). And at this moment as they were both lying on her bed, Rukia realized that he was different from the rest, because past all that toughness and kick-ass business, was a true dreamer._

_She remembered that story they were told as children, the one about the monkey and the star. How the monkey foolishly reached for the star's reflection in the water and ended up drowning. Okay, so the story itself was a little depressing, but now, Rukia could see the effects of the bedside readings. Renji was the monkey of course, but instead of reaching for an imitation, he was going about reaching for the star the proper way. He dreamed and he planned. Aspiration and tact rolled into the young man sitting next to her. Young and inexperienced as she was, she knew that what she was looking at was a rare species of boy. A boy who came up with an idea and saw the concept through to tangibility._

_As she watched him, his expressions and hand gestures animated by happiness and an urge to lighten her mood, she couldn't help but think about how confident and fearless her friend seemed. That was so typical Renji though. Always reaching high and always actually getting it._

**xxxxx**

"Nice to speak to you too Uryuu," Ichigo said with as much enthusiasm as a child's face when they realized they got socks for Christmas. Then again, Ichigo was certain that Uryuu would probably be the boring adult who would give socks to a child as a present. Uryuu probably knitted them himself too.

"It is isn't it?" Uryuu mused as Ichigo made his way towards the front of the store, a surly looking teenage girl situated behind the counter.

Ichigo made a motion to gag at that comment. His eyes looking at the ceiling lights.

"Stop it Kurosaki," the phone chastised.

Ichigo stopped, mid-noise. Eyes wide, he slowly looked over one shoulder than the other. All he saw was the empty store. He faced the girl again and she looked at him, bored. No reaction whatsoever, despite his odd actions.

"Quit looking over your shoulder," the voice on the line said with a slight tinge of annoyance. Uryuu always spoke with that mixture of annoyance slash impatience with anything regarding Ichigo. "Really," he added, exasperated. Ichigo straightened himself, before pressing a group of random keys on his mobile, prompting a high-pitched beep on the other end—

"FUCK!" Ichigo knew that the four-eyed man almost dropped his phone by the distant sound of Mr. Handicraft's voice. Evilly, he grinned as he tossed an individual pack of Bugles (a whim) and the wanted bag of Pork Grinds onto the counter. The teenager behind the counter hardly spared him a glance before ringing him up and telling him the total, her voice and expression monotone.

"Lovely weather," Ichigo tried, hands in pockets as she counted the change for him. She apparently needed some for the register and was dolling out extra from a paper tube. He'd seen plants grow faster.

"Ichigo!"

She was now having a hard time unraveling the brown paper tube and had begun to slam it against the register's plastic drawer, rattling the machine and eliciting a large ca-ching every time she did so. Contrasted to the clean quiet of the store, the sound startled him with every hard hit. He cringed as if he was receiving the abuse himself.

"ICHIGO GODAMMIT!" Ichigo jumped. At the same time the woman hit the damn roll of coins rather forcefully against the counter, change spilling out onto the counter and onto the floor, though she hardly seemed troubled by it. She just stared at the small discs spinning in circles before collapsing with a c-ca-ca-clink on the countertop.

Ichigo, mesmerized as much as she was, looked down at his yelling pants before pulling up the still open mobile from his pocket. "Yes Uryuu?" he said blandly. He took a cue from the woman behind the register who was counting out his change from the loose money lying on the counter with the care of a porcupine handler or a member of the bomb squad. She was shoving each piece towards his side of the counter with deliberateness, placing her index finger on the center of each coin and sliding it in his general direction.

"I have been yelling your name for the past five minutes you idiot!"

Ichigo sighed before pressing a few buttons hastily, prompting another loud beep. Once Uryuu was cursing at him again, he turned to the woman. "I don't need a bag thank you." She looked at him confused, before pinching a plastic bag open, clearly unfazed at the interruption.

"Ichigo!" Goods in the red lettered THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU bag, she left it on the counter for him to take and stood, waiting. Coins still sat on the counter as if forgotten, but a few were sitting closer to him than where they landed previously.

"Ummm," Ichigo said, a little confused. He would've attempted a smile to soften his next statement, but he really wasn't capable of that. "I should have a little more change." The woman's face blanked at his words and they stood there staring at one another.

"Ichigo!" Uryuu's voice interrupted.

"But it's fine," Ichigo decided, practically talking to himself, as he reached over for the bag's handles. "Consider it a charge for the bag. That didn't elicit a reaction either, and she continued to stare at him. She blinked a few times though, which Ichigo took as a response. "Thanks," he muttered, plastic bag scrunched in his fist raised as a wave good bye.

"You're welcome you bastard," Uryuu replied sardonically. The girl merely continued to stare at him. "Now get your ass out of the store and get in the damn car!"

He actually had half a mind to try to win this staring contest he had so unwittingly entered but that last statement caught his attention. Turning towards the glass door he had entered a few minutes before, he saw Tatsuki's faux smiling face in the driver's seat. She gave an exaggerated excited wave as he saw her. He looked to the back seat and saw Uryuu Ishida sitting calmly and staring at him, his glasses reflecting the glow of the bright lights through the convenience store's front windows. Orihime was right behind his shoulder waving enthusiastically.

Ichigo nodded in return, listening and watching as Uryuu spoke again. "Congratulations. You've spotted us quicker than I even deemed you capable of."

Ichigo flicked him off, plastic bag dangling from his wrist.

"Charming," Uryuu responded with that same bored drawl of his. Ichigo could hear and see the peals of laughter from Orihime and Tatsuki. "Now get in the car. We're in a no standing zone."

Ichigo turned back towards his friend behind the counter. She was standing with the same perfect posture and the same unflinching expression as before.

"Um…," Ichigo took a step back. He just now realized that he was the only one in the store, and he was almost grateful for his friends' rescue. Whereas before he attempted to entice her into conversation, Ichigo realized that there was probably a reason this woman was destined for the night shift. Taking another step back without turning around, "I'm going now," he reported.

No reaction.

"Right…" he made it to the door and pushed it open with his back. The bells jingled. As he made his way into the humid evening he made a last ditch attempt. "You have a good night." Still nothing. Oh well.

Ichigo climbed into shotgun, greeting everyone and handing Orihime the bag after she asked him what he got.

"Pork grinds!" she announced gleefully, puling the bag out. "These are so good with vinegar!" Ichigo nodded when she asked permission to share. Uryuu shook his head, lecturing her on the healthy habits a woman in her condition should follow, but she ignored him with wifely assessment, shoving a handful into her mouth with a crumbly grin. Ichigo smiled admiringly while Uryuu glowered at his love o' life then at him. Before Uryuu could begin another argument about snotty orange-haired adults who tempted pregnant women with unhealthy snacks and kept a car waiting in an illegal zone, Tatsuki ordered everyone to put a seatbelt on, which everyone complied without question and put an end to the would-be argument.

She smiled at that as she placed her hands on the wheel and checked her mirrors. Staring through the rearview to look at the backseat, "Everyone okay back there?" The Ishidas nodded, one's face a little more rounder and filled with dried, fried pork skins than the other's. Tatsuki looked over her shoulder before she turnred the wheel to pull off the curb.

As they drifted off from the little shop, Ichigo turned to meet the eyes of that creepy woman again.

"Uhh Tatsuki?" he called over his shoulder. "Where are we going?" She was still standing there in the same position as before, only now her whole body was facing the car.

"Uryuu's got some shindig he's supposed to be at," Tatsuki informed him, waiting as a taxi passed by. She shot Uryuu a look byway of the rearview mirror. "Where's it at anyways Uryuu?"

"Seiretei," Uryuu replied, taking a pork grind for himself before Ichigo's grabby hands took the entire bag away. He mistook Ichigo's sudden pause as astonishment. "I promised I'd go to this event as a representative for the hospital."

Ichigo dropped the fight for his snacks immediately. "Really?" he asked. Curiosity getting the better of him. "Any place I'd know?"

Uryuu didn't miss the set up. "Seeing as it's uptown I doubt that."

Ichigo tossed a pork grind at him, ignoring Tatsuki's protests that it was her car he was making a mess in. Undaunted, he tossed another one, before she slapped his arms down to his lap.

Chastised, he looked at her angry face before turning to face the window as she joined the rest of the street. The girl was still there watching their car. He made a half-hearted wave.

And he was surprised that she waved back.

Suddenly, he felt the previously thrown pork grinds hit the back of his neck and heard the giggles of his friends, which stopped abruptly as he turned around, fistful of fried pig skin held above his head.

**xxxxx**

_Ichigo held his hand up as a makeshift visor against the sun, pausing in the middle of his trek to assess the remaining ground to be covered._

_Just over the hill and he'd be at the winding steeples carved into the mountain. It wasn't very far but the amount of sloping hills did a number on those who were on foot, which the Kurosakis were. They parked their car at the base of the mountain and hiked up per usual, despite the fact that the road had been repaved since they started coming and a parking lot added closer to the top decreased distance required to walk. Most visitors used it anyways._

_But for the Kurosakis it was almost an unspoken tradition that they had to walk. Any other way and it would feel like they didn't really come here at all. Besides, it was worth the hike. Ten fold._

_He knew the trek well; the family having made this annual pilgrimage like some would make a vacation. No matter the day of the week, the weather, the circumstances, time stopped today. Isshin signed the Kurosaki children out of school, he closed the clinic, and they ignored phones and the mail. Everything was planned to a T with each member handling a job from food to drinks. Isshin even went as a far as to bring a change of clothes for the entire day because they wouldn't be anywhere else for the next 24 hours._

_Everything was focused and planned because they were visiting their mother today._

_Ever since she was buried here, the Kurosakis came on the day of her death anniversary, rain or shine, and judging from the overcast slowly rolling from beyond the mountain, it was probably going to be rain today._

_The air was humid, adding extra heat to the temperature. Sweat trickled around his temples and near his hairline, but he didn't wipe it off. As he looked towards the threatening clouds in the distance, a little part of him couldn't help but remember those very same clouds that threatened him that day his mom died._

_He dropped his hand and turned to see Yuzu and Karin follow behind him. He was caught off guard to see his old man walking backwards ahead of them, a megaphone in his hand. Where the hell did his dad get that?_

"_That's it Yuzu!" Isshin yelled unnecessarily to a wilted looking Yuzu. Ichigo saw him make a move to yell again, instead a squak came out and the twins covered their ears. This had no effect whatsoever on Isshin Kurosaki._

"_Quit it dad!" Karin yelled back, her eyes pierced close and her ears shut off with the palms of her hands._

"_What did you say Karin?" Isshin asked through the device, his usually loud pitch rose to statically high amplitudes. This time Ichigo had to cover his ears as the megaphone whined in protest. Their surroundings helped echo the noise._

_Amongst the kids, he was in charge of hiding the stupid thing. He thought he picked a perfect spot under Yuzu's bed, but the old man must've found it._

"_Why are you stopping?" Isshin asked, turning to his brood, oblivious to the hateful looks they were shooting him. "We won't make it there until nightfall if You Keep STOPPING!"_

_Ichigo cringed as he made his way closer to his family. He held his hands near his head, prepared for any vocalizing from his father. "Where did you get that dad? I thought you couldn't find your other one after the meeting?" And I thought I hid it rather well._

_Isshin dropped the hand carrying the megaphone for a second and looked at his son thoughtfully. "That's true I couldn't," he recalled. His spirits rose as he recounted, "But I got up early this morning and bought a new replacement specifically for toda—HEY!"_

_Karin dusted her hands off as Isshin watched his beloved new megaphone fly through the air down the second hill. It bounced with a telltale crack and rolled in a large circle. The handle preventing it from rolling all the way down the hill._

"_Not my new baby!" he cried wistfully. Tears glistened in his eyes._

"_That's enough of that," Karin ordered, pulling his ear down to get his attention. "We're going to have a nice walk up to visit mom. We don't need you screaming at us the whole way UP!"_

_Her voice had built up to a nice pitch—about equal or more than Isshin's megaphone if Ichigo was to judge. He saw his father's sweat drop at the reprimand from his daughter, shooting baleful looks at his other two children. He recovered quickly though, and within a few seconds, he was jumping up and down._

"_LAST ONE UP HAS TO GET THE STUFF FROM THE CAR!" He announced before bounding up the slope._

_This sparked a note in Karin, who grabbed Yuzu's elbow to pull her along. "Come on Yuzu!" she said, calling out as the twins made headway, "You've cheated old man!"_

_Ichigo stood there and watched as Isshin laughingly waved back at his daughters. "It's a cut throat world Karin!" he replied smugly, while Karin was threatening about showing him what cut-throat really meant._

_Ichigo couldn't help but shake his head a little as he trudged up in their wake, hands shoved in pockets yet again. Looking up again he couldn't help the goofy grin that began to emerge. "Not much has changed mom," he informed the clouds._

_The clouds shifted in response, casting the mountain in a large shade. Colors popped out more thanks to the missing effect of the bleaching of the sun, and the entire surroundings took on a more serious look._

_He heard a shriek from his father, probably Karin overtaking him, and Ichigo looked farther towards the next tier in the mountain to spot them. His family always treated this day more like an outing, a holiday. The effervescent attitude of the Kurosakis contrasted with the task at hand, not to forget the location in the first place, and yet it was entirely appropriate. Masaki, as Isshin pointed out when a younger Ichigo complained about their tomfoolery, would want to see her family smiling and living happily rather than crying._

"_Ichigo," he told him in one of those rare moments of sincerity his father had. Ichigo remembered the grip his dad had on his shoulders, his face on level with him since he crouched. "We all love and miss your mother," he paused to look into his son's amber eyes, his hold tighened. "But we have to honor her life and the memory she gave us by smiling. The hurt's there," he assured him. "It will always be there, but that sense of loss isn't what should rule us. It's the fact that she was with us to begin with." _

"_Come on Ichigo!" Yuzu shouted back, her feet trying to catch up with her sister. Ichigo snapped to attention. "We can't let dad win!"_

_He wished he was like the rest of his family. Deep down he knew that his father was right, but guilt with in him grew like a cancer. Unrelenting._

_He looked up to check his family's progress in the race, when a crash of thunder racked the mountain and all of a sudden rain came pouring down in sheets._

"_Your mother," his father had said, hugging his son close, "taught us to have fun, to smile and laugh. You have to show her that she taught you well."_

_Looking up towards the gray skies, hair plastering to his face, he couldn't help but scowl. He hated rain._

_A peal of laughter from overhead made him look in Yuzu's direction. She was closer to Isshin now, her face smiles despite the sopping state of her person and dress. Karin was holding Isshin's back, having somehow jumped on his back, as he struggled to overtake his other daughter. Isshin's face was in exaggerated struggle._

_Laugh and smile, his father told him. His mother taught them all well then._

_But Ichigo still never understood why his family didn't blame him._

_Looking up again, he studied his family's progress up the steps. Karin had either forgotten Yuzu or was requested to go on without her twin, because she and Isshin were neck and neck sprinting farther ahead. Meanwhile Yuzu was struggling to jog at a reasonably pace a couple of lags behind, and as if noticing her brother's immobile form, Yuzu looked down from her higher location on the upper step. Stopping abruptly, she smiled, stood erect, and gave a half hearted wave._

_Smiling back, he waved as well, before the sound of a crash and a wail from Isshin started both Kurosakis. They gave one another a worried glance as they heard the peals of laughter from Karin and joined in themselves._

**xxxxx**

_Rukia never knew what to call Ichigo's father._

_In the beginning of their friendship, Rukia didn't have any interaction with the other Kurosakis in the house. She knew of them. Despite Ichigo's rather stunted conversation skills, facts and vignettes of the colorful family popped up, and Rukia was hooked. Kept and hidden in Ichigo's room, she'd eavesdrop as Karin and Ichigo would yell at Isshin, who was attempting to motivate his children. She giggled as she heard a loud crash and a wail from Isshin and guffaws from the Kurosaki children._

_From her distance, she loved them. They were odd and loud and loving, despite themselves, despite their flaws and their stubbornness. They were a family by accident, she could see, as if they came to rely on each other almost regrettably, which explained the role their mother must have played in their lives. The glue, the center. Their dynamic so different from the one she knew at home, and despite the shady nature of it, she learned their quirks and character._

_She knew that Yuzu was the responsible caretaker of the house, making Ichigo's lunches and keeping the house tidy. She knew that Karin loved to play soccer, acted like a tomboy, and punched a boy in the face when he tried to kiss her. Ichigo enjoyed telling that story to their lunch group with elder brotherly pride. She knew that Isshin was a clinic doctor, who used to work at Karakura General but worked at the clinic adjacent to their house since Masaki, Ichigo's mother, passed away._

_Yet, they also had their vices. Because even though they were close and did family fun things together, Rukia couldn't help but see how closeted each Kurosaki was. Like how Yuzu took on too much responsibility, not daring to ask help of anyone. And how Karin was tough and all talk but shared nothing of her tender emotions. Isshin was always jocular and over the top but never shared personal problems or serious issues with his children._

_She never knew if Ichigo himself had seen any of this, but he had his own shit too, which she had first hand experience with._

_As far as Rukia herself was concerned, she knew that they knew of her. She heard Ichigo explain to them who she was on that first meeting when she came to apologize about the truck crashing through their wall, and even with Kon, they didn't realize hers and Ichigo's relationship with each other or knew of it exactly._

_From what she knew, Kon was accepted as a stray they just accepted (Ichigo was believed to be the instigator of it and Yuzu took to the feline), and Rukia's interaction with the Kurosaki family was limited. Then again, she supposed finding a teenage girl in your son's room at odd hours of the night or wee hours of the morning would raise your guard, which was probably why Ichigo took care to keep her hidden. They always panicked when anyone came to his door or if they heard an odd creak in the hallway. In seconds she was in the closet, Ichigo sliding the door shut with care to not make a sound. But there were so many close calls to count._

_Presently, Rukia stretched in the makeshift cot in Ichigo's closet, thinking of her toes extending as she pointed them out. She loved stretching. All the muscles and kinks pulling to the brink of pain and yet not. It was like holding one's breath until one was blue, and then—aaaaaahhhhh—inhale. That was a stretch, extending one's self to the fullest potential, and being a short person, she enjoyed that line of thought immensely._

_Ichigo's closet, although a little small and constrained, had to be one of Rukia's favorite places. Most of his clothes on hangers were pushed down near her feet, and the fabric skimmed her toes when she lied on her back. She slept on two comforters resting on the waist-high shelf. A pillow and blanket nicked from his bed completed her nest. And even though it was somewhat cramped, disorderly, and albeit a little unconventional, Rukia loved it._

_Granted, if she was claustrophobic, she probably would be a little more frightened of it. It was a rather small closet, but as Ichigo pointed out, she was a rather small person. She couldn't hit him for that, as she was want to, because it only perpetuated the silent agreement that she was allowed to sleep where his clothes should be. And as far as she knew, no one else in the Kurosaki house hold knew that she was even in the house, and she was there often. If only in Ichigo's room._

_She lifted her leg, brushing the swinging t-shirts and school uniforms hanging above her, the plastic hooks rattling, the cotton swishing on the skin of her legs._

_It was silly that she didn't know what to call Ichigo's father. She had met him a total of three times since she started Karakura High, and the first time was on her first day, when she came to Ichigo's house to apologize. Isshin seemed rather excited at seeing her then too, questioning Ichigo over this potential lady friend of his and when they met and what her family was like and if she could stay for dinner? Rukia laughed and excused herself, seeing as it was a school night._

_Funny considering tonight was a school night, and yet here she was! Sleeping over at a friend's house._

"_Hey Rukia!" she didn't know how, but Ichigo managed to lightly knock on the sliding door while sounding very, very loud. "I think the hall's all clear if you wanna go ahead and use the bathroom!" She was going to have to talk to him about using a better sneaky voice. She was sure the whole house along with the whole block heard him.  
_

_Still lying on her back, she turned to rest onto her right cheek and scraped the door open lightly with her fingers. Ichigo peaked through the inch or so of space she allowed and she blinked against the soft glow of his desk lamp. A beam of light fell across her eyes. "Did you get my-?"_

_A bunched up yellow and orange checkered fabric was wedged into the crack._

"_Thank you," she said, sliding the door shut and sitting up to change. There was hardly any room to do much in the closet, other than lie down, but Rukia had achieved a relationship with the small space. She understood the places she could extend her arms, and how low she had to bend her head when she sat up. Perfected with practice, she changed in no time, pulling on the pants with only one accidental kick to the closet door, which Ichigo responded by hitting the door back._

"_Y'know?" Ichigo mused towards his closet, his back leaning on it as he sat on the floor. "The fact that you can fit my sister's pajamas is just a little weird."_

"_Weirder than a teenage girl sleeping in your closet?" she asked, the door sliding open. He wasn't disturbed from his position since he was on the other door panel. She took a step off the shelf and into his room._

_He shot her a sardonic glance from where he sat. "Funny. I guess they were right about monsters living in closets."_

_Rukia adjusted the drawstring to Yuzu's pajamas, tying a knot carelessly. "Har-har," she mocked, her voice turning serious. "And you're allowed out here because?"_

_Ichigo stuck his tongue out and she retaliated in kind. "I wouldn't if I were you," he warned. "I am letting you sleep in there."_

_She couldn't say much against that, and instead she pulled her hair out from the inside of her orange collar and headed towards his bedroom door, giving a good once over of the hallway before walking out._

_Rukia couldn't remember when she started sleeping in Ichigo's closet exactly. There were recollections that stood out more prominent than others. There was that time she broke up with Kaien, and Ichigo let her stay the night. She found herself in his closet that morning. It was the first time she had slept over and the first time she did actually sleep in the small cupboard. Then there was that time she had a little too much at a party. Again she woke up in his closet, and she knew it was because Ichigo didn't want her discovered by his father, who had a tendency to wake his son up with a kick in the face, seriously. She saw it through the crack of the closet. Isshin held no bars when raising his son._

_No, the first time was probably when she hid there._

_Byakuya went on a business trip to Tokyo that would last about ten days, or so he told her. Rukia was fine those first five days. She knew how to take care of herself. Food. Sleep. Lock the doors. But just the same, Rukia was never comfortable with being so alone in an entire space before. An entire apartment by herself._

_A maid stopped by every other day, and Byakuya's assistant dropped by in search of forms or information the man himself needed. And yet, she was still alone. None of those people were instructed to check on her. They weren't responsible for her well being, which only made Rukia all that more alone._

_The first time Byakuya went on a trip, it only lasted two days and one night, and for that one night, Orihime invited her to sleep over. Then again, that never did happen because she ended up drunk and Ichigo took her home, but the point was she never had to spend her time alone. Granted, their apartment wasn't that large. It was fairly medium in size, and only had three bedrooms, one converted into an office, but it still unnerved her to be alone in a house._

_Rukia spent her growing years in foster care, where spaces were limited and there were more than enough kids. Time wasn't spent alone or avoiding one another. No, she embraced the entire experience, learning to lover her odd, makeshift family more, preferring it over what she imagined a typical life to be like. And considering her circumstances now, she couldn't help but miss her old life down in Rukongai. It was only since joining the Kuchiki family did she begin to demonstrate this rebellious independent streak. Rebellious in that it was contrary to her own nature._

_After the fifth day, when she swears she started talking to herself, Rukia climbed into Ichigo's window. He wasn't there but that didn't deter her. She climbed into his closet, cuddling the comforter already placed in there for her comfort weeks earlier. She had also grabbed Yuzu's pajamas, which were lying on a clean laundry pile on the washing machine right outside Ichigo's bedroom door. The plan was going well. None of the Kurosakis were home yet, and Ichigo didn't find her when he did come home. That is, until he texted her and heard her ring tone right beside his bed. His face was priceless._

_The bathroom's tiling was cold on Rukia's bare feet. She stood before the sink to spit and rinse her mouth, before she shoved her toothbrush into her breast pocket. She turned the tap, rinsing her hands and washing her toothpaste foam down the drain. Looking at herself in the bathroom mirror, she bared her teeth, checking her handiwork._

_Surprisingly, despite secrecy, Ichigo let her stay. Neither of them skipped a beat as she'd climb through his window, her book bag filled with extra clothes and her homework._

_Shutting off the tap and the bathroom light, Rukia poked her head out and checked both ends of the hallway. Deciding on the all clear, she slipped out silently, tip-toeing to Ichigo's room. Her feet barely making a noise on the carpet running the hall._

_EEEERNNNG_

_Rukia's heart sped up, and she stood still for a second. She wasn't sure how long she stood there, her feet still arched to tip-toe and her arms out to balance. She felt her muscles twitch in protests, her heart and her lungs beating rapidly in her chest. For some odd reason, she couldn't move. A deer caught in headlights. Was that a door creak she just heard? Opening or closing? Was anyone else awake? Rukia stood stock still, imagining herself part of the darkness, part of the hallway itself, just unseen. She couldn't move or breath or blink, which was how Ichigo found her when he creaked open his door._

"_What the hell are you doing?" he whispered._

_Rukia's eyes were huge as saucers, and she winced as the small amount of light emanated from behind him. He had turned on another lamp, and a triangle of light fell upon her. Their shadows casting long away from them. "I heard a noise," she whispered back, not daring to move from her odd position._

"_You heard a noise?" Ichigo repeated, clearly having none of it. She couldn't make out his expression that well, and he was more of a shadow himself, standing before his lit room._

_Rukia stood properly, the muscles in her neck ached from the odd angle she just had. "You calling me a liar?" she asked, arms finding their way to her hips. She ignored the pain that shot through her calf._

"_No," he whispered back, deadpan. "I'm calling you an idiot." he gestured for her to come back, and Rukia, just realizing that she was standing in the middle of the Kurosaki hallway at one in the morning, followed instructions like a dog with its tail between his legs._

_Very few times did Ichigo Kurosaki have the upper hand in any argument._

_Giving one last look back into the dark hallway, she couldn't tell for sure, but she thought she saw one of the doors close soundlessly, a light under the door clicking off as she stepped over the threshold to Ichigo's room._

**xxxxx**

"Will you shut up already?" Rukia asked smilingly. She pressed a flute of champagne against her tightly pressed lips. The bubbles tickled her nose momentarily before she took a sip.

"No," the tall man to her left said without moving his mouth. Like her, his teeth were bared in a smile for the sake of the guests. He nodded to a nicely dressed couple passing by them. He called out a greeting to them and replied to a joking remark the man had made. "Because," he picked up as if they weren't interrupted. His tone fierce and fast. "I'm not done being angry with you."

Once she came into the penthouse, Rukia thought all would be clear. However, this was all proved wrong once Renji reached her side and said with a charming smile glued to his face, "You're hair looks funny." She had forgotten that she tried to fix it whilst walking here.

Rukia responded with a similar expression. "Any comment from you about my cosmetology is pretty moot considering you think red hair and black lines on your face okay."

She was rewarded with a crack in his carefully plastered smile. "I'm not the one who looks like Alfalfa from the Little Rascals."

"Dammit," she whispered, spotting her reflection in a nearby cheval glass. She stomped off towards a side bathroom, allowing Renji to lecture her through the door as she righted her coiffure. He must have understood that she was not actually listening because after twenty minutes of waiting, he opened the door, dubbed her half finished hair to be fine, and dragged her to stand with him to catch the occasional guest.

By this point, Rukia refused the urge to stamp her foot, but she looked up at the face of her oldest friend. "Oh stop being such—," she cut herself off to shake hands with an older gentleman who approached them. As soon as he stalked off, she turned back to face him. He raised a tattooed eyebrow, a derisive look on his face. "Such a—"

A rolladex of bad mouthy words came to mind at that instant. Words that would make his skin crawl and probably induce vomiting, but sadly she was beaten with the worst possible name to call him—

"Renji."

They both looked up to see Byakuya staring at them with his usual expression of complete indifference. He hardly took note that his sister was present.

"Nii-sama," Rukia breathed, bowing her head a little. "I'm sorry that—"

"You're late," he cut her off, and Rukia nodded at her feet. Turning his attention back towards the red-haired man, Byakuya's tone didn't change at all. "Have you spoken to the representative of the Kasumiōji Group?"

"Yes Byakuya," Renji said all too quickly, happy to be giving the proper answer. "I spoke to Enryu and Kenryu, their assistants, just moments before Rukia arrived."

"Good," Byakuya seemed to take this all in as Rukia and Renji watched him calculate their next move. They shot each other slightly panicked glances from the corner of their eyes. "Any changes?" Wrong question.

"According to them," Renji replied, slightly off kilter. Rukia could see him try to spin the news in the most positive way possible. "They're still a little reticent over the deal."

"We were hoping they'd make a decision tonight," Byakuya said, and although his voice was bare of any emotion or warmth, Rukia and Renji clearly read the annoyance in his statement. Renji shot her a sideways glance. An I-totally-told-you-so kind of look that Rukia would've been angrier to receive had she not had the unfortunate disadvantage of being late.

Byakuya's stainless steel eyes bore into his second in command at an uncomfortable length of time, and Renji began sputtering plan B's in quick succession. Clearly the whole scene required a quick get a way from her.

"I'll talk to Rurichiyo."

Byakuya didn't spare her a look and she felt Renji's shock through the tenseness resonating from him.

She was in charge of this account after all.

**xxxxx**

_Rukia sat slouched on the leather couch, picking at the hem of her skirt._

"_Of course," she heard Byakuya say into the cordless phone as he paced behind her. The noise at the end of the line was a jumble of furious twitter Rukia couldn't quite make out, but Byakuya took it all in stride. She heard him murmur in agreement, pausing before replying calmly._

_Ever since the move, phone calls like these were frequent around all hours of the day, and Byakuya took them all with the Kuchiki grace that Rukia learned over the years. No matter the situation or disaster, she saw her brother fix it with the stoicism that brought down even the toughest entrepreneurs._

_Some of the hardest, coldest men she had ever encountered sat here where she was and spoke to her brother to coax or threaten, to appease or to fight, and Byakuya simply dealt with it all._

_This study might be on the smallish side compared to what these business heavyweights were used to, but the man in it, striding back and forth the width of the room, created an atmosphere of respect and encouraged a feeling of exquisite intimidation. Although no one was the wiser, when said hardballs left the office._

_She remembered the old town house in Seiretei. The beautiful, large sandstone building on the fancy street with posh neighbors and even posher surroundings. Byakuya's study there was at least twice or as big as the one she sat in now. There were shelves of leather bound books collected from all over the world, an antique sideboard which held expensive liquor and spirits to be shared with prospective business people, and a large, commanding oak desk. _

_Rukia had seen so many photos of the Kuchiki ancestors seated at that desk. It was like a throne of sorts. Each head of business inherited it for use, as if the secrets of the business minded Kuchikis were in the very grains of the woodwork, whispering and helping the current head of clan. It might very well have been true, but Rukia had no way of ever finding out now._

_No, now, Byakuya had moved them to the heart of Karakura. He had said good bye to his upper class lifestyle: the house, the car, the servants. From what she understood, the elders kept the townhouse in shape, although no one lived there. And although Rukia never understood his actions, she always received the result of it._

_Her adoption for instance and now this move._

_She looked around his present day study, comparing it with the general splendor that was the old Kuchiki house. Here, everything was clean, straight lines and no clutter. Everything was kept masculine yet neutral from the off-white walls to the black leather chairs and the modern, minimalistic black desk. Everything was in opposition to their original counterparts. Whereas the Townhouse study exuded years of business experience, trust, and loyalty, Byakuya's current surroundings said nothing more than new, modern, and a risk. All business was risk, she knew, but Rukia couldn't help but feel like she had a hand in this venture. Like she might be a cause for all this newness._

_Rukia studied the hard carpet Byakuya was currently treading. The mustard glow of the setting sun was backing off and exiting the way it came in through the bare windows on one side of the room. Beyond that, she had an excellent view of the Karakura skyline. In the distance was the river and the bridge. Small cars glided over, their silhouettes were the most she could make out. She spied the roof of Karakura High, where they tended to eat lunch or waste break time. She could see the dojo some of the kids were a part of and the green park where she went to sketch or sit. In the corner, she guessed to be the Kurosaki Clinic, and she vaguely wondered what Ichigo was up to._

"_Rukia?" a voice cut through her thoughts._

_Rukia's ears perked up at the voice and she stretched to look over her shoulder at her older brother. She sat up, realizing he had finished his phone call. "Yes Nii-sama?" she asked politely, her voice almost alien to her own ears._

_Byakuya placed the phone back onto the holder and found his way to his leather swivel chair. Everything in his study was sleek and black like that chair. A new chair, a new throne, she couldn't help but think. Rukia turned to face him. "How was your day?" he asked, business as usual._

"_Good Nii-sama," she said with a slight respectful bow of the head._

_Byakuya nodded in an imitation of listening. If she hadn't known him better then she probably would've fallen for it._

"_We had a math test," she went on, following this act and playing her part properly. "Algebra. We should get our grades by the end of the week."_

_Byakuya gave a slight nod, his eyes not focusing on her. Instead he was looking somewhere passed her and over her shoulder. She had an inclination to turn to see what it was. A heavy black shelf covered the entire wall behind her. Books filled it up to the brim. She helped one of the housekeepers organize them when they moved in. From what she told Rukia, Byakuya brought only the ones he had read with him during the move. The rest stayed at the Kuchiki family home where it belonged._

"_Sensei thinks that I might need a little more help before our next test," she continued, not at all bothered by his lack of eye contact, "but she said that she'd let me know depending on how I did on this one," she said carefully, warily. She watched him lean back in his chair, propping his hands into his lap to give her his full attention. Or the appearance of it. _

_Despite the frequency of these meetings of theirs, Rukia was always edge for them. They felt like business dealings, like she was just another To-Do on his list before he moved on to more important matters. The sentiment was nice to have of course, but that was all it was. It was structure and what was expected of him._

_She never felt proper in these discussions, even back in the old Kuchiki townhouse. Most families probably had discussions like these at the dinner table. Hell, they probably cooked dinner together and talked about the latest celebrity gossip or international news or boy band preference. N*Sync of course. She wasn't sure, but she pegged Byakuya to be a Justin fan too._

"_But I think I did fairly well," she went on lamely. She remembered Ichigo and Orihime trying to help her study and pulled at her fingers individually._

_These meetings set her on edge. Because she had to be careful of what she said, she felt tongue-tied, which resulted in awkward wording and mixed up information. Sometimes she couldn't say anything at all. But in most cases, she felt like she shared too much unnecessary information. Information that she had under control and that Byakuya didn't need to know about. Like this math issue for example._

_Byakuya looked up at her. His face still so severe and yet calm. Maybe it was because that was his natural expression, but it ceased to intimidate her like it did when he first asked her into the family. No. What intimidated her was the look in his eyes. It was calculating, like he knew a little more than he wanted to share. He hid something from the world and he was fine with it. Fine in his aloofness and disregard. He knew. He understood. But he didn't need you to, unless he wanted to use it against you._

"_Rukia," he began. He always took his time when he spoke. Unintentionally or no, it gave the air as if he said everything with great consideration._

_Rukia sat a little straighter, feeling a bit guilty for saying too much, but she was saved (as cliché as it may seem) by the bell. A shrill noise interrupted the interlude, and both speaker and listener adjusted their attention to the phone sitting on the desk._

_Byakuya considered the Caller ID screen before answering. She knew that she was dismissed before he even gave her a glance after greeting the caller._

_She nodded her assent, although unnecessary, got up, smoothed her skirt, and made her way to the door. As she turned the knob, she couldn't help but linger, waiting for a word from him._

_When none came, she turned to look at what he was doing, but his back was already to her. He was facing the computer screen that was placed on the counter behind his desk._

_Thinking that she better go find the housekeeper for dinner, she did her best to open the door and close it as quietly as possible._

**xxxxx**

"Why oh why did you have to open your big mouth in the first place?" Renji questioned, his voice a step away from a whine, as he followed her down the hallway towards the kitchen.

Rukia kept a swift pace as she shimmied past waiters and the occasional guest, lost from the general congregation of the rest of the party. She dodged and swayed to miss trays held out and the poufy skirts and flinging arms. "I'm sorry that I was trying to—excuse me—be proactive and that—sorry—just happened to decide on that as the best course of—oompf—of action."

"Well maybe next time—sorry sir—you should come here on time—pardon me—and do your job!" It was like running through a damn hurdle race or something.

"Shut up Renji," she retorted, pushing her way through the kitchen's swinging door. Immediately, she felt the increase of temperature, but she didn't give two seconds to the bubbling pots on the stove tops or the steaming dishes just out of the oven. Though, she did take a deep, appreciative inhale before deciding which way to intrude the space. Caterers dressed in chef's whites littered the kitchen, intent on their tasks didn't give hide nor tail about them.

"Oh? What? Am I also a booger head?" Renji asked sarcastically. He was right at her heels as she sidled past a few of the caterers towards the back of the kitchen. They didn't lift their heads from their work as two fancy dressed people wove their way through their assembly. Although, as she passed a pile of fabric napkins, Rukia grabbed one from the top without stopping, and Renji had to wait for a passing cook to place a cookie sheet into the oven, before resuming in her wake.

"Now that you mention it," she said airily as she tucked the fabric napkin into her boat neck, then in a much stronger, immature voice, "You are!" She brandished a small plate at him too. Where and when she got that, he didn't know.

Renji waited as she scooped a handful of mushroom onto her plate from a passing waiter, who only eyed her momentarily before leaving the kitchen, a little happier that his tray was relieved of at least a third of its contents.

At Renji's questioning glance, Rukia shrugged. "I haven't eaten dinner," she explained, popping one into her mouth.

"That's a little disgusting," he said watching her with a revolted look in her eyes.

Rukia had found some clearance on the kitchen's small piece of counter between boxes full of champagne flutes. They were by the stainless steel refrigerator, wedged in the back of the kitchen, and consequently were out of the way for the most part, that is if you didn't need champagne glasses or the fridge. Though, most of the staff didn't care then either, grabbing glasses out of the box without sparing a glance to the small girl perched on the counter. She boosted herself up in one try (though that was thanks to lots of practice over the years) and let her legs dangle as she popped another mushroom cap into her mouth. Cheeks filled to the point of chipmunk resemblance, she looked at him. "Whap?"

"By all means chew," he ordered, leaning his hip along the desk's edge. He brushed his fingers over the cardboard as he talked to her. "Wouldn't want you to be grumpy when you go off to talk to Rurichiyo."

Rukia glared at him, petulantly biting a cap in half. "Booger head," she reminded him.

"That's what it looks like you're eating," he remarked, watching the gloppy mess in her hand. He picked one up to study it, prodding it with his index finger from the other hand. "What's in this? Spinach?" He leaned closer to sniff it carefully. They both missed the derisive look from a nearby caterer.

"I yam what I yam," she announced, winking one eye harder for emphasis. If this got a positive reaction from him, she couldn't really tell, but when she finished and opened both eyes, she snatched the food from his inquisitive fingers and tossed it into her mouth.

Renji chuckled and shoved her with his hip playfully. "You're eating too fast."

She pouted, cheeks again filled to capacity.

"So this is your grand plan?" he questioned lightly, though she knew better than to take his forced tone for what was worth. There was that small bit of calculation lingering beneath that question. He was in business mode now, not playtime with childhood friend mode. He wanted answers pronto.

Rukia looked at her plate slowly, picking another cap up as she chewed on another. She bounced it on the plate lightly, waiting until the previous cap was successfully consumed. "Have you eaten yet?" she swallowed and chewed.

Renji gave a shake to the negative.

"Aren't you hungry?" she asked, holding up the plate right at his nose. He went cross-eyed just looking at them but shook his head again. "They're deliiiicious," she coaxed, waving the plate from side to side as if a food dance might sway his decision.

"Thanks but no," he pushed the dish away from him. "I have enough on my plate than to be picking off yours."

Rukia feigned laughter at the purposely loaded statement before resuming eating. "Y'know it's not good to skip out on meals," she said conversationally. "What's your body running on? Booze and business?"

Renji rolled his eyes. "Y'know," he mocked, "alliterations don't mean you're clever."

She twisted her face. "I wish your stomach would growl to support my argument."

"I'm sorry my body doesn't really take requests."

They were both quiet for a moment; too long of a moment really, and Renji lifted his eyebrows at her.

"There's a dirty joke in their somewhere," Rukia explained, face contorted in exaggerated concentration, "I'm trying to figure it out."

"By all means, take your time," Renji said patronizingly, palms raised in a hands-off gesture. "Although," he continued, "I suggest you do it quickly, because you'll need to talk to Rurichiyo soon." He guarded his arms in front of his chest and leaned properly next to her, daring her to reply.

Rukia didn't say anything else but took a surly bite out of another slimy mushroom cap.

**xxxxx**

The sound of the cicadas in the nearby trees worried him. He was always afraid of plagues of the bastards since he watched that special on Discovery years ago. They naturally came with their own warning Jaws-like theme music, and one couldn't see them in this dark-dark.

Undeterred, Ichigo slowly flexed his hand to lessen his grip on Uryuu's throat, because making Orihime's baby fatherless would probably weigh heavily on his conscience.

Then again what Uryuu could contribute to the baby Ichigo's really wasn't sure. Handicrafts? Annoyance? Bad vision? The ability to…well Uryuu was a doctor, a well decorated one at that, and he was the top student of their graduating class…and sure, if Ichigo was honest, Uryuu had saved his ass a couple of times back in the day, but really! Who would want a father like that?

Although, maybe preventing Uryuu from teaching the little fetus how to act like a jerk might be worth it. Ichigo just hoped it took after Orihime for everyone's sakes.

"Is there a reason as to why you're just staring into open space Kurosaki?" big-shot doctor-handicrafts man asked.

Ichigo looked at the owner of neck he was holding. "Orihime is the only redeeming quality about you right now," he murmured.

"That's very nice of you Ichigo," Tatsuki laughed from the sidelines. A car passed by, honking, and she gave them the finger without a second glance. "But can we go now? Those bugs are starting to freak me out."

"At least I have a redeeming quality," Uryuu choked out beneath the tightening hold Ichigo had on his throat, which tightened a smidge more after that comment.

"I think they're getting louder," Tatsuki warned.

"That's not true Uryuu! You have many redeeming qualities!" his wife piped up from where she stood in the grass. Then added after receiving a threateningly look from Ichigo, "He's my husband," she said with an apologetic shrug.

"That's true Ichigo," Tatsuki confirmed unnecessarily. She slapped her calf as another mysterious insect nipped at her. "And she just announced she's pregnant." Then added as she began to itch. "I'm getting bites you losers!"

"I've already considered that," he replied without looking at the women folk and ignoring Tatsuki's last comment. They made an interesting picture dressed up and standing on the side of the road amongst the trees and tall grass. They hardly had light, the street lamps pretty unnecessary at this stage of road, and therefore more separated out. Tatsuki did leave her headlights and hazards on, which added a dim glow to their odd vigil. And they had to be careful of where they stepped exactly, because there was even more litter than one would notice from within their passing car.

"And you still came to this conclusion?" Tatsuki asked sardonically, slapping her arm at the merest tingle. There actually wasn't a bug there, but she was growing paranoid. Standing there, she already had four bites.

"It's the one that will make me feel better," he admitted.

"That is very selfish of you Ichigo," she reprimanded, itching. "Think of the undeveloped fetus growing in Orihime's stomach!"

"Actually Tatsuki," the mother intoned, "it's pretty developed and the baby is growing in my—"

"Please!" Tatsuki held up a hand to halt her. The two men, despite one being a doctor and despite the other being a man, looked frightened. "Don't finish that. We all went through sex-ed together. We all know the baby's exit strategy."

Orihime looked sad at the deterrence of sharing more information. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked around them. "Why are we still out here?" she asked, shivering a bit in the night air. Their car wasn't broken, which they told two cars that had stopped after them, and they weren't lost, which another passerby asked. Rather, they were pulled over, by request of Ichigo, because—

"You just had to toss them out the window," Ichigo said, a mean edge in his voice, not taking his eyes off Mr. Handicrafts and ignoring said Mrs. Handicrafts' inquiries. "Which is not only littering," he added, "but is also a mean thing to do!"

"Will you get over yourself Kurosaki?" Uryuu demanded, his vocal abiities semi-restored since Ichigo loosened his hold. "You were letting Orihime have most of it anyways, and it's not good for the baby!"

"That was my dinner!"

"Oh Ichigo, there will be plenty of food at the party," Orihime interrupted. "And there will be way better food than pork grinds and Bugles. I'm sorry I was eating most of them," she added a little woefully.

Guilt immediately taking over. Not on Uryuu's part that is, but for the kind ex-girlfriend who was currently pregnant with his friend's baby. Wow, that was a sentence. Put that way, their lives sounded like primetime melodrama. Besides, the fact that she also craved Bugles and pork grinds, that Ichigo shared them with her, that she believed Uryuu wanted some too and handed them to him, that Uryuu tossed the junk food out the window, that Ichigo demanded they stop the car, and that Tasuki actually complied and helped look for the plastic bags on the side of the road in the middle of the night were not actually Orihime's fault. "It's alright," he relented, taking a step away. It was Uryuu's fault, and he would pay later. "But I should probably just head home. It's getting late."

"Nonsense," Orihime scoffed, sidling up to both men. A car passed by, briefly shocking them with its headlights, but it didn't stop. Orihime looked at Uryuu's neck, which only had a definitive red quality to it, then to Ichigo, a huge smile on her face. "You came all this way anyway!" She gestured towards the near empty road, which led into the richer portion of Karakura.

"Yeah Ichigo," Tatsuki continued, shoving past him and stomping through the ankle-high grass back towards the save haven of her car. "Besides, how will you get home?"

Judging by the small smirk on her face, she thought she had him. And granted they were in the middle of nowhere currently, but once they entered Seiretei, he wouldn't have any trouble at all. Karakura had seen many progressions within its transportation system over the years. There were taxi services galore not to forget the railway system, which boomed in recent years (more stops and more lines at Karakuraites' convenience). Tatsuki must have seen all of his plans crossing through his mind, so she frowned, and with a huge harrumph, she pulled Orihime, who wasn't prepared and gave a little squawk of surprise, along the grass back towards the car.

"Just go home," she jeered while walking backwards. Ichigo looked at Orihime, who was struggling to keep up with Tatsuki's brisk pace, hindered by the backwards direction. "Not that your friends wanted to hang out with you after such a long absence," she continued. "Not that we looked forward to seeing you again after all these years. I mean," she shrugged. "It's not like we felt that you forgot us or anything." She stopped by the car door to look at him. "Not that you care that I have six bites from standing out here looking for your damn Bugles!" she added, her voice more malicious at that last addition.

Ichigo rolled his eyes at his friend's obvious, yet completely legitimate tactic. In a way, this is why he missed them. Great. He, Ichigo Kurosaki, just admitted to having feelings. "Fine," he sighed in defeat.

Tatsuki cupped the shell of her ear. "Was that you Uryuu?" she asked. "Y'know it sounded like Ichigo's voice but that doesn't seem right since he's never here—"

"I said fine!" Ichigo relented. He gave Uryuu a scathing glance when he met the doctor's smug expression.

"Aw yay!" Orihime cheered, loosening her hold on her friend's arm to walk properly. For a second, Ichigo was worried that the buxom woman was going to hug him, but she grabbed her husband's arm instead. "I thought the food would sway you."

"Yeah," he agreed, opening the car door and slipping inside. Orihime got in the opposite end and Uryuu took shotgun. "That pretty much outweighed the fact that we're on our way to Byakuya's."

"In that case," Tatsuki rejoined, checking her rearview mirror before entering the empty road. "The food better be damn good."

"For all our sakes," Orihime added with a giggle.

**xxxxx**

_The first time, Ichigo stepped into Rukia's apartment building, he was a little taken aback by the normalcy of everything. There was the small anteroom beyond the glass doors, a set of stairs and a pair of elevators. It reminded him a little of Orihime's apartment really. He just assumed that a man who could easily pay the damage done to the front of the clinic would live in more luxury than a normal three-bedroom apartment in midtown Karakura. Seiretei at least._

_Then again they just moved from there._

_As Rukia led the way into the living room, she hung her keys by the door, dropped her bag by the couch, and threw her shoes off nearby, all done in the swift motion only habit and home could elicit. Then again she wasn't the one carrying a large ceramic, slightly inaccurate replica of a Grecian vase, which was at least two feet high. "Do whatever," she suggested, and Ichigo understood she meant for him to take a seat or get comfortable. Her version of good hostessing probably. Though she left him by the door, stupid vase slowly wearing in his hands._

_As she disappeared behind a nearby swinging door, which he assumed led to the kitchen, Ichigo looked around for a proper place for the ornament, which Rukia was allowed to take home having finished it last week. Finding an empty spot on a square, modern looking coffee table, he wiped his hands on the thighs of his school uniform pants and slipped off his shoes._

_He placed his bookbag near hers, before circling the room, feeling timid and curious surging all at once. He had to swallow the urge to open the drawers or wander through the hallway, but he always had that urge when he visited other people's houses. He had an urge (whenever he entered a stranger's house) to learn the lay of the land, have an intimate knowledge of any new environment. The fact that this was Rukia's apartment was just too good to pass up as well. How many times had she slipped into his room without his knowledge or permission? He probably should feel a little violated that's what._

_Despite knowing Rukia for over a year, he had yet to come to her house. He'd walked her to her building before, even took her up the elevator to walk her to her door, but he just never actually entered it. Weirdly enough, he never really questioned it. He never saw her room, let alone Byakuya._

_What brought on this change was pretty lost on him. Rukia hardly talked about herself or her family life typically, choosing to come over to the Kurosaki household when Byakuya was gone, so he was pretty surprised when she invited him over after school._

_Though part of him knew it was just so he could carry the vase._

_The thing that stood out the most was how tidy everything was. Cleaned and not a veil of dust even on top of the television, which was a respectable large size but not an outrageous big screen. Typical, there was an L-shaped black leather couch, sleek black furniture, and a bookcase with lights cast over a current set of the _Encyclopedia Britannica_. The smell of the leather binding the books overpowering when he walked by it._

_The clean scent, the pristine look. He really couldn't imagine lounging comfortably on the leather couch or eating in front of the television here, but from what he heard of Byakuya, neither of those activities were really important anyway._

_Taking a seat, he noted the small hallway leading off to more rooms and a door opposite from the kitchen. But before he could imagine the rest of the layout of the residence, Rukia came out with a kick to the door, a large bag of lays in one hand and a bottle of ketchup in the other. She sat them down on the coffee table, plopping down herself, tucking her legs under her to sit on her knees._

"_What do you think the GAP interviewers will ask?" she posed, fishing for the remote in the cushions behind her._

_Ichigo looked up from leaning towards the potato chip bag. "What?"_

_She smiled. Her amethyst eyes twinkling all the more at a successful surprise attack. "I know that Urahara asked if you'd be interested Ichigo." Her arm was still wedged into the leather couch. "What I don't know is why you haven't filled out an application."_

_The last bit was so suggestive, so knowing. It was really annoying._

_Funny really, that summed up Rukia._

_He told her so and crunched the chip in his mouth for an added touch, but she wasn't looking at him anymore. Having found the remote, she was facing the TV, flipping through afterschool specials and day time talk shows. Oprah, Carson Daily, Arthur, News reeled off in quick succession._

"_There really is no harm in trying Ichigo," she continued as if he hadn't just called her annoying._

_He didn't say much but took another chip and crunched it in his mouth; and as if accepting this, Rukia took a chip in one hand, the ketchup bottle in the other, and poured it onto the crisp with the ease of an expert. Ichigo watched all this with fascination and disgust, thinking that maybe Orihime had gotten to the girl. By her fifth one, she turned to offer him the bottle, which he shook his head to._

"_Don't knock it till you've tried it," she advised, which brought to mind Urahara's warning about GAP. Rukia plopped another crisp into her mouth and settled on a music video countdown, a current boy band singing and dancing in time. They sat and watched for a moment, reading the scrolling texts on the bottom of the screen. Viewers were encouraged to call and text and e-mail reasons why they loved the music video._

_Ichigo would've rolled his eyes, but a thought had just occurred to him. "How do you know about GAP?"_

_Rukia didn't skip a beat. "I wanted to try it out last year, but they don't really let first years. So I waited and then I moved," she seemed to realize that she was on a tangent. "I found out Urahara was in charge of it at Karakura, so I asked him for the forms."_

"_And he just so happened to tell you that I was—"_

"_It came up," she admitted still nibbling on a chip. "We were just talking about who was interested in the program and he brought you up and just happened to mention—"_

"_So you two basically gossiped about me and found out that I never handed anything in?" he asked testily._

_Another pause which clearly meant yes._

"_Rukia?" he hedged, prepared that she hadn't heard him, but without turning to face him, she answered with a murmur. Taking this for a somewhat positive sign, he struggled with his wording, eventually coming up with plain words. "Where…exactly are you planning…I mean, do you know where you want to go to college?"_

_Rukia considered it, even going so far as to draw the poised chip away from her mouth. She still looked ahead though. "No…not really. I don't," she shrugged, ate. "Only the Uryuu's of the world do."_

_Ichigo smirked, which was lost on her. "Of course."_

"_And even then," she added, reaching for the chip bag again. "We've got a year or so before we should give it any serious thought. But," she squirted ketchup onto the crisp. "I still think that you should try out for GAP." She said it in such a way that suggested he eat another chip or possibly stick a cactus in his mouth._

_He felt like the latter to be honest. "Stop telling me what to do."_

"_Oh please Kurosaki," she reached forward for another crisp. "As if you wouldn't get in. I don't even know why you're so worried."_

"_I'm not worried," he punctuated with a soft kick to her side with his socked foot._

_As the video ended, she suddenly sat up and dipped her fingers individually into her mouth to lick off the crumbs. "Come on."_

"_What?" Another video with a booty shaking sixteen year-old pop star. She had a bright future._

_Rukia was standing now, wiping her hands on her skirt. "Come on, I wanna show you something."_

_Ichigo shrugged and stood as well, following Rukia past the kitchen door and towards the hallway. They passed a couple of closed doors, and Ichigo wondered at the contents inside._

_Then, into another door that was similar to the others, she led him inside._

"_It my portfolio," she explained after a bit as Ichigo stared. He noted the way she introduced her work a little shyly, but Ichigo could detect that smidgen of pride under her humbleness. He didn't look at her but took a step inside the small room, his neck craning to study the wall right in front of him, still unbelieving of what he was looking at._

"_All of this?" Ichigo asked stopping to take the entire thing. She mistook it for the lack of work hanging on the bare wall._

_He missed Rukia scratching the space behind her ear in discomfort. "They wanted a personal piece accompanying a small portfolio, so I was thinking that—" _

"_Rukia this is amazing," Ichigo said turning to her in raw astonishment. He looked from the canvas hanging right in front of him then back to her. Then, like a child in need of schooling, "What is it?"_

_She stifled a laugh and un-offended she stood next to him. They stood side by side, considering it. She watched his eyes roam across her cross-hatchings and loose lines. It was one of her first pieces she prepared for the interview._

_She was rather proud of it, really. some no mai, tsukishiro_

_She always felt a little pretentious naming her pieces, but this one was different. This one was special to her. How easy it came about, just sitting there and drawing everything out. She spent weeks trying to get the composition right, knowing in the back of her mind what she wanted it to look like. The countless of preliminaries, which included doodles in the margins of her homework and notes._

_She and Ichigo stood before the medium sized paper tacked onto her wall. All this chaos, buildings crowding, people battling, destruction, death, were snugly fitted into the boundaries of paper. Tiny buildings filled with detail that made her almost blind from overt consideration._

_She spent how long with inky pens and tiny brushes trying to achieve the affect that she wanted._

"_How do you come up with these?" he asked, looking closely into one of the city's buildings._

"_I've been doing sketches for weeks so I had an idea of what I wanted to do really," she began._

"_No. I mean," he gestured in a circular motion toward the canvas the height of his torso. "This. Any of it."_

_Rukia shrugged. "I don't really know," she attempted, confused and a little too surprised to understand where to cover the question. "They're really just there. They're like a dance. You know the steps and the actual process, but there's this—" she stopped herself lest her words, although as close to accuracy as she could get it, were too dramatic for her taste. Sharing it out loud would just be contrived._

_Ichigo nodded though as if he knew all of this to begin with. "This is really, really amazing."_

_Rukia aw-shucks and twisted her toe on the floor in an attempt to cover up her pleasure at his words. She never took pride quit well._

_He didn't really notice the blossoming color on her cheeks. Instead he took a couple more steps back. Retreating further to get the stark angle of the thing. Those few, abstract lines in the clear space in the center came into focus and he realized what he was staring at this whole time._

"_It's a moon," he noted, stepping back and looking at it fully._

_Rukia smiled. "Yes…"_

"_That's weird. How do you make it past its boundaries?" Ichigo wondered aloud. "It's as if it's coming towards me. Like it's reaching out into the sky."_

_Rukia's smile widened considerably. Exactly._

**xxxxx**

The problem with being in a car was that you were inevitably stuck with those people in a small, confined space until you reached your destination. And unlike other forms of transportation, you couldn't really keep to yourself if everyone was feeling particularly chatty.

"So?" Tatsuki asked suggestively.

"So," Ichigo repeated a little flatly, half of which was him exaggerating as he knew where this was going.

Tatsuki pouted at the window. She was a very responsible driver. But it wasn't a puppy-dog or a petulant one, but more an exasperated one. It was almost menacing to look at. "Are we going to have a serious talk about this or not Ichigo?"

Ichigo furrowed his brow. "Are you guys still making the whole me and Rukia thing your business?" he tried to look at the couple in the back seat. "Because nothing happened."

"But you talked," Orihime pointed out.

"Yes."

"What about?" a masculine voice asked.

"Uryuu are you really part of this too?"

"Well," the man considered. "I am in this car ride. I might as well partake in the entertainment, though I'm perfectly happy staying out of it."

"Then why don't you just do that?"

"I would, but Tatsuki won't turn the radio on."

"Focus Ichigo!" Tatsuki ordered, her hands on ten and two, which meant road rage was near, though they all knew that this anger would probably be directed towards the people in her own car rather than the people in the Ford Fiesta cutting them off at the moment.

"What?" he snapped right back. "I thought we gave up these stupid plans back in high school?"

"We did," Tatsuki snapped back. "But it just got interesting again."

He couldn't help but exhale like a boiling kettle. "Please stop it you guys."

"What? No way. We want to hear what happened," Orihime squealed, tugging his arm. "What did you guys catch up on? Has she told you about her gallery she's opening up?"

"I dunno."

"Don't be difficult Ichigo."

"Seriously. I really don't know."

"What do you mean you 'dunno'?"

"Look, we just had coffee," he explained as patiently as he could. "It's been the first time I've talked to her in years really. Actually talked I guess. I mean, last I heard of the girl, she was going to get married."

**xxxxx**

"You're giving yourself an internal pep talk aren't you?"

Rukia stood directly in front of Renji, watching the room of guests laughing lightly, enjoying the party. Lucky bastards. Really? Did Miss Cute Swishy Blue Dress just have to be smiling so damn much? And what was with Mr. Cut Suit? Why did he get to mime a telephone call at the amusement of a circle of old gents? Everyone was having much more fun. Granted, it was her fault.

Rukia, concentration broken, turned to her friend. "Why do I feel as if you're enjoying this?"

Renji smiled. "Why are you imagining the worst of me? I support you all the way Rukia," he gave her shoulders a squeeze for good measure.

"Like you supported me going to the reunion tonight?" she asked, a bit of edge in her tone.

Renji remained nonplussed. "You said so yourself that you had work to do."

Rukai didn't know what to say to that, but she felt that making an angry face would do.

Her friend smiled. "When's the last time you actually talked to that guy?"

She shrugged. "Last I heard, he was married."

**xxxxx**

_**A/N:**__ Right now I have my hands clasped behind my back and I'm peering at you guys a little guiltily as I stamp out an imaginary cigarette with my foot. It's the universal look of a guilty party asking for forgiveness in how long it has taken me to update this. I can only excuse school, a term abroad, and pretty much a lack of idea of where I want this story to go. It's gotten bigger than I anticipated when I started._

_I hope this chapter met up to some of the expectation, especially with the wait. Thanks for those who stayed with the story. I'm so, so, so sorry!_

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